Because of You
by Cherryblossomtree13
Summary: A hurt/comfort fic about Hermione's infifdelity as she returns to work at the Ministry when Ronald quits his job as an Auror. At first, the mother of two is mortified at having to work with Draco Malfoy, but she soon comes to find that the recent widower has changed much since their time at school. Dramione
1. Chapter 1

**On Loving Two Equally**

How strongly does my passion flow,

Divided equally 'twixt two?

Damon had ne'er subdued my heart,

Had not Alexis took his part;

Nor could Alexis powerful prove,

Without my Damon's aid, to gain my love.

When my Alexis present is,

Then I for Damon sigh and mourn;

But when Alexis I do miss,

Damon gains nothing but my scorn.

But if it chance they both are by,

For both alike I languish, sigh, and die.

Cure then, thou mighty winged god,

This restless fever in my blood;

One golden-pointed dart take back:

But which, O Cupid, wilt thou take?

If Damon's, all my hopes are crossed;

Or that of my Alexis, I am lost.

~Alpha Bern

* * *

**Chapter One **

* * *

Hermione Granger-Weasley, exhausted and weary, blinked back the onslaught of tears which threatened to escape her stinging eyes as she watched her husband storm about their kitchen.

"Honestly, Mione!" Ron huffed, slamming their dark cherry cabinets shut with a little more force than necessary. "I understand you're busy with the kids all day, but would it bloody kill you to tidy up a bit?" He moved on to throw Rose's half eaten remnants of a peanut butter sandwich into the bin with a huge sigh. "It's literally a wave of your wand!"

His wife of seven years glared at him, an unmistakable sense of resentment and wrath bubbling deep within her.

But a word never escaped her lips and she swallowed his remark as though it were absinthe, slowly feeling the ball of poison in her throat growing larger and larger with every unspoken word.

Hermione had learned long ago that arguing with the obstinate red-head only made matters worse, and she was too broken to fight.

Ronald turned around to look at her, his blue eyes softening just a fraction as he registered her unkempt hair, breast milk stained T-shirt and red rimmed eyes.

"I know it's tough work Hermione, but you have to try a bit harder."

The young witch swallowed once more in reply.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

Rose's mop of flaming red curls came flying into the room accompanied by her thunderous footsteps as she threw her tiny body at her father, arms stretched skywards in a silent demand to be picked up.

Ron's face brightened instantly, the deep scowl marring his brow a distant memory as he bent over to scoop their first born child into his arms who smiled just as brilliantly through a mouthful of pacifier.

Despite his faults as a husband, there was no denying that Ronald Bilius Weasley was an exceptional father.

And for that at least, Hermione was grateful.

A loud, distant cry from the loft made them jump as Hugo announced the end of his nap.

"You come with daddy to get baby?" Ron asked the two year old as though he expected her response to be anything more than gibberish.

The two left the kitchen, giving Hermione a sacred moment of peace and quiet.

The young woman took a deep sigh and walked over to the window, the cool winter air rebounding on her face as she breathed onto the frosty glass.

Everything looked so beautiful and cozy covered in a thick blanket of sparkling white snow. She remembered the days when such weather meant ice skating and hot cups of cocoa by the fire, curled up with a good book.

But now?

It meant nothing more than the start of cold and flu season, and a four month quest to find Rose's missing mittens which somehow seemed to evade every summoning charm in existence.

Hermione adored her children; more than anything else in the world. But having her world revolve around nap times and nappy changes, repeating the same mundane activities day in and day out without any real semblance of structure had broken her.

She needed to be working, out there making a difference in a way that meant using her sharp wit and intellect for more than coming up with new ways to sneak vegetables into the kids diets.

The witch, once so sure of her plans and aspirations for the future had undoubtedly lost herself amidst the relentless sea of motherhood and wifedom.

The latter of the two being far less rewarding.

Ron did small, thoughtful things for her, like making sure to put milk in her tea every morning, or planting flowers in their garden and picking her a bouquet just before the end of Summer.

But for every romantic gesture and compliment, there were at least ten different flaws he managed to point out on a daily basis.

A loud creak from the room upstairs brought the girl back to reality, and she turned to stare at the haphazard meal she'd scrounged together just before Ron had stepped out of the fireplace.

Deciding to liven up the cold perogies with some grated cheese, Hermione dashed for the refrigerator and extracted a block of cheddar.

_You have to try harder._

Ronald's words rang in her mind with all the crassness of a metal bell, but she steeled herself against his never ending criticisms and began to grate the cheese over their plates in a last ditch attempt to prove to herself that she could indeed _try harder._

* * *

The house was filled with the blissful sound of sleeping children and Hermione let out a weary sigh after a long day, throwing herself beside Ron on their plush duvet.

She laid face down in the bed for a few seconds, basking in the utter lack of screaming babies before rolling onto her side to stare at her husband.

He was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet and failed to bat an eyelash at the nudge his wife had inadvertently given him.

Hermione pursed her lips at him, trying to think of something to say when she caught the headline on the front page.

_MULTI-MILLION GALLEON DONATION GIVEN ANONYMOUSLY _

_The St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was given an astounding donation from an anonymous philanthropist. The seven figure sum was bequeathed to the Blood Curse and Ancient Magic Research Department, which until yesterday, was desperately underfunded._

_The donation was given on the eve of the late Astoria Malfoy's birthday, who died two years ago of a Blood Curse which severely weakened her body. She left behind an infant son and a devoted husband whom many have assumed to be the generous benefactor..._

Ron flourished the paper as he set it down on their nightstand, cutting short the tale of Astoria's tragedy.

A pang of pity shot through her at the memory of the quiet brunette who had been at Hogwarts, only two years behind herself.

She couldn't even imagine what that would be like - giving birth to a child, knowing that you would never be able to watch them grow up…

A shudder ran up her spine and she cast the dark thoughts away, hoping she would never have to face that reality.

Ron reached forward and snatched up the mobile phone she had so foolishly purchased for him last Christmas and loaded a game, still not having acknowledged his wife at all.

She glared at him for a few more seconds, hoping he would notice her before beginning to rap her fingers against the smooth, lilac bed sheets as the seconds ticked by.

Sighing internally, she gave up.

"So how was your day?" She asked colloquially, praying that he would take the bait so she could engage in a meaningful conversation with someone capable of speaking more than two syllables at a time.

"Alright," he replied, not making eye contact.

"Just alright?"

He nodded once, utterly absorbed by the flashing screen.

"Anything exciting happen?"

"Not really."

"Nothing at all…"

He shook his head.

"What about yesterday?"

Ron sighed, exasperated as he set the device down.

"It's work, Mione! Not exactly exciting."

Hermione screwed her face up at him.

"You're an Auror, for Merlin's sake, not a mail clerk!"

Her husband glowered for a split second before his expression changed altogether.

"Not for much longer actually."

The young witch sat up in the bed, her heart sinking at the look of guilt and shame on her partner's freckled face.

"What happened?" She asked, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't gotten Harry into trouble as well. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Ron declared, looking scandalized. "Well, at least not yet…"- he reached a lanky arm behind his head and scratched his mop of ginger hair, struggling for words -"I...I want to quit."

His wife stared blankly at him and after a long moment of silence, she relaxed her shoulders and smoothed out the creases in the sheets before opening her mouth.

She had to measure her next words very carefully - simply telling Ron that they couldn't afford to have him off work would just make the red-head defensive and unresponsive.

"You know I'll support you through anything, Ronald..."

"Thanks Mione," he whispered, closing a large freckled hand over hers.

She smiled; talking to Ron was like feeding a toddler - you had to offer something sweet along with the vegetables.

"But we're _just_ getting by on your wages, and I don't know how we'll manage long term if you're not working."

The ginger sighed heavily, releasing her palm and running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, I've been thinking about this for a few months now and...why don't we swap roles for a bit?"

"I don't understand," Hermione replied, trying to clear the deep scowl she wore before her husband commented on it.

"Why don't I stay home with the kids for a while and you go back to work?" The youngest Weasley boy posited the idea timidly and gauged her reaction like a book he was trying to read from across the room.

Hermione tried desperately not to let her expression betray her; on one hand she was ecstatic at the thought of scheduled breaks where she could eat lunch without another human clinging to her - and the thought of being able to pee with the door closed nearly made her giddy.

But on the other hand, she was terrified of going back to work and leaving her kids at home. She was afraid of all that should would miss out on if she was at Whitehall for nine hours a day.

More importantly, what would the kids do without her? What would they eat? She was certain her husband wasn't going to start making Butternut squash macaroni for Hugo or cutting Rose's sandwiches into snowflakes and dinosaurs.

No, as much as she craved the independence, she should refuse.

That's what a good mother would do...right?

"Look Ronald, I know you might think it's all fun and games at home-"

"I never said that."

"-But it's a lot of hard work keeping those two kids fed, cleaned, entertained and well rested all day long and I don't know how I feel about leaving them at home with-"

"Their father?" The red-head scoffed derisively, turning to give her a pointed look.

Hermione's shoulders slumped and she immediately felt like an arse. She knew she was overbearing and controlling - many arguments and fights having erupted over the past two and a half years over her unwavering ability to swoop in and cut short anything Ron did with the kids that didn't fit her standards of parenting.

She was about to reiterate her previous statement when he continued speaking.

"When I was younger, the thought of chasing down bad guys and bringing them to justice… it all seemed brilliant back then," Ronald paused, taking a deep breath as he twiddled his thumbs and stared at his knees. "But after the war…"

A thick knot formed in the back of Hermione's throat as she willed herself not to cry at the mere mention of those dark years while her husband furiously fought back his own tears.

"After everything we did, everyone we fought and everything we-" his voice cracked suddenly and Hermione felt the moisture escape from her eyes as she battled against memories of Fred, Remus and all the others they'd lost. "Everytime I raise my wand to bring someone down, I wonder if they've got brothers or sisters, or a wife and kids and the spell just dries up in my throat and -"

The red-head let out a frustrated growl as he viciously clawed at his long, leaking nose, turning away as though ashamed of what he had just confessed.

"I - I just can't fight anymore."

The young witch's heart broke at the sound of sheer exhaustion in her partner's voice and she quickly wiped away her own stinging tears before climbing over his gangly limbs to straddle him, cupping his face with her hands and forcing him to look at her.

They had both lost their childhood and adolescent years in a harrowing spiral of battles for the greater good against the Dark Lord and his followers. They had seen and done things at the tender age of twelve that most children couldn't conjure up in their wildest dreams. They had paid the price for their children's freedom and bore the scars to prove it; scars that were carved into their flesh and some that were burned into their brains, announcing themselves in the dead of night only to disappear in a wake of strangled screams and uncontrollable sobbing.

And only they understood.

"You don't ever have to go back," Hermione promised, wiping the tears away from her husband's eyes. And it was true - they would figure something out. Whether it meant she went back to work, or that they blew through their savings until Ron found something that made him happy.

She only wished he had said something sooner.

Ronald ducked his head and nuzzled into the crook of her neck while she stroked his mop of ginger locks soothingly, burying her nose into the sea of fiery hair and inhaling deeply.

The fresh scent which wafted into her nostrils calmed her heart, reminding her of the Amortentia she had sniffed those many years ago in Professor Slughorn's classroom:

Freshly mown grass, new parchment, spearmint toothpaste and the last smell she had failed to blurt out had been this - the close, comforting scent of Ronald Weasley's hair.

They sat like that for a long time before her husband gave her a tight squeeze and released her, turning off the lamp with a wave of his hand as he sniffled a few more times.

"Love you, Mione."

"I love you too," Hermione whispered, snuggling closer to Ron as he wrapped his arms around her tightly before they both fell asleep in each other's embrace for the first time in far too long.


	2. Chapter 2

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* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

It had been two weeks since their talk and Hermione suddenly found herself squeezing into her pre-Hugo business pants, growling in frustration as the buttons refused to close over the sad pouch of distended flab which hung like a clingy friend onto her midsection.

She reached for her wand to mend the waist but found herself staring down blankly at her crotch, the spell having completely evaded her.

Cursing again, she ripped off the pinstripe trousers and rifled through her closet for the tenth time, finally opting for a wonderfully forgiving dress and a pair of extra slimming pantyhose.

"Okay, you can do this...relax," she coached herself, undoing her hair and redoing the chignon again in some vain hope that it might make her look more like a businesswoman rather than a nervous wreck whose breasts were already leaking with her son's breakfast.

"Mental that one, I'm telling you."

Ron's voice made her jump and she rounded on him with a scowl which evaporated when she saw him balancing both bleary-eyed children on either arm, a small smile playing across his lips as he looked her up and down.

"What?" Hermione asked, instantly on the defensive as she began checking her rear in case she had accidentally sat in vomit or peanut butter.

Her husband laughed and shook his head, setting Rose down on the floor who immediately started whining to be picked up again.

"You look great, just try and relax."

The young witch took a deep, steadying breath and nodded.

She could do this.

"Mommy! Mommy?"

"I've left a few bottles of pumped breast milk in the fridge and some pasta for Hugo. Rose won't touch anything unless it's in the shape of a snowflake, so just keep that in mind."

Ron nodded, still smirking at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Mommy!"

"They usually have snacks around ten, then Hugo goes down for his first nap while Rose does some colouring. She's been really fond of that purple one with the farm animals Ginny bought her."

"Mommy!"

"Bloody hell, woman, we'll be fine!" Her husband laughed, practically shoving her out the door.

"I know, and don't swear in front of Rose!"

"MOMMY!"

"What is it!" Hermione rounded on her daughter with a hint of exasperation in her voice, quickly regretting her tone as she tried to make amends by smiling at her firstborn. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Mommy play? Mommy play Rose!" The fiery haired toddler declared proudly, smiling brilliantly as though her words were gospel.

"Mommy's going to work, pumpkin," she explained gently, bending over to give the girl a peck on the forehead.

"Come on, let's go make some breakfast," Ron offered, surely diverting a tantrum as Rose flew towards the kitchen screaming for cupcakes at the top of her lungs.

Hugo was already squirming to be put down and as soon as Ronald released the crawling menace, Hermione began to quickly unzip her dress.

"Er…" Her husband stared at her as though she'd grown horns. A slight look of shock painted his features before he quickly grinned from ear to ear, a spark of mischievousness glinting in his blue eyes. "If I knew this was how you'd say goodbye, I would have let you go to work years ago!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, shooing her overly amorous partner away while he tried desperately to grab anything he could get a hold of.

"Ronald, get off," she laughed, bending over to scoop up Hugo off the floor. "I have to feed him before I leave!"

"And you needed to undress for that?" He huffed, still grinning.

She hadn't seen her husband this happy in a long time.

"Do you have any idea how messy these things are?" She asked, brandishing the ten month old at him. "I'm not showing up to my first day of work with milk stains on my clothes."

"Tease," the red-head accused, giving her a playful jostle as he walked past her and into the kitchen.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was redressed and giving a teary eyed farewell to her family, one polished pump in the fireplace and the other rooted firmly to the laminate floors of her living room.

"And I left a few pages of helpful tips and tricks for you on the table!"

"You left me an instruction manual - that thing was colour coded, Mione."

"Just promise me you'll use it!"

"I promise, now get out."

Ronald shoved her into the brick hearth, balancing Hugo on his hip as he held onto a teary eyed toddler.

"Mommy no work! Mommy stay!"

Hermione burst into tears at her daughter's request and quickly grabbed a handful of Floo Powder before she lost her nerve altogether.

"We'll be okay. Just have fun."

Her husband blew her a kiss and smiled, holding onto their children as Mrs. Granger-Weasley shouted "Atrium, Ministry of Magic" through a spray of tears and saliva and watched her home disappear from in front of her.

* * *

"Just this way," a pretty, blonde witch by the name of Chastity led Hermione to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

The blonde was slim and clipped along effortlessly in a pair of shiny blue stilettos as she looked back to throw a dazzling smile at the mother of two, who despite herself, was left feeling like a toad in the other woman's wake.

The only child of the Granger's self consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smoothing out the powder blue dress and giving Chastity a warm smile, regardless of her own insecurities.

Hermione was so nervous that she was sure the plain waffle she'd scarfed down this morning was bound to make a reappearance.

It was not only her first day back at work, but apparently her first day in a new department altogether.

Hermione Granger was not a person who enjoyed being surprised - she craved control in almost all areas of her life and finding her first few minutes back at work as chaotic as her time at home was unsettling.

As if she wasn't under enough stress to begin with.

She thought she'd be back at her crammed desk on the fourth floor, buried under heaps of parchment on outdated creature regulations and preposterous laws. She even had a new agenda she wanted to push this time around; free distribution of Wolfsbane potion to those who needed it and equal rights to the Werewolves who still suffered from the stigma of their condition.

But all those plans had to scrapped.

Thankfully, having children had made her _far_ more flexible and accustomed to expecting the unexpected.

Where were many tears and mental breakdowns along the way? Of course, but Hermione had learned that sometimes you just needed to "go with the flow."

And that's what she was doing right now, as best as she could, while the awful let-down reflex in her breasts made her thank Merlin for the extra nursing pads she'd stuffed in there this morning.

"They're right in that office," Chastity relayed, pointing politely towards a set of closed doors ahead.

Hermione nodded at the other woman and forced herself to smile, the rapid beating of her heart nearly making her vision blurry as she waited until the witch was out of sight before discreetly sniffing her underarms to make sure the copious amount of sweat she was producing was still odourless.

Grateful for the sleeveless ensemble, the brunette fanned her armpits frantically before smoothing her hair and grabbing hold of the door handle.

_You can do this._

Yanking on the frame, she stepped carefully into the cool room and was greeted by four faces sitting around a circular table.

The bright, smiling visage of an older woman dressed head to toe in black and a young man with sea green eyes caught her attention for a split second and she smiled back, breathlessly introducing herself as she scanned the rest of the room.

That was when her heart nearly dropped out of her stomach.

Seated at the chair furthest from the door was a familiar man with bleach blonde hair that glinted in the harsh fluorescent lights and a pair of cold, blue-grey eyes which quietly studied her form.

Draco Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

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* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

She didn't know what her expression relayed, but his presence left Hermione feeling like she'd been punched in the gut.

Whatever she had been expecting on her first day back, it had not been this.

She wasn't ready to face the person who had all but destroyed her self esteem with his relentless taunting and teasing. The same person who had done everything in his power to ruin and convolute everything she and her friends planned. The same boy who had labelled her as a Mudblood.

The same _man_ who had done nothing while his aunt had carved the word into her flesh with a knife.

Hermione's scar burned; the crazed, dark eyes of Bellatrix swimming in front of her while she fought with everything she could muster not to begin hyperventilating.

Draco's eyes were guarded and while he failed to make eye contact, she noticed him frown when she clutched her arm to her chest. She suddenly worried that he could read the slur from across the room.

"Are you alright?"

The third witch, who was wearing crushed velvet robes of deep fuchsia got out of her seat, hesitant to cross the floor and help the scared little girl who stood like a deer in the headlights at the front of the room.

It took a split second of deep, calming breaths before Hermione could nod unsurely, forcing another smile to her lips as she fell into a high-backed leather chair which had been graciously moved behind her.

"Just a bit overwhelming,"-she cleared her throat which had become inexplicably dry and tried again-"being back at work and all."

Her colleagues nodded sympathetically, and the man with the sea green eyes poured her a tall glass of water which she accepted gratefully with a pair of shaking hands.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the only child of Lucius and Narcissa quietly got up from the table and left the room.

She breathed a sigh of relief and took a long sip of water before readdressing her new co-workers with a fraction of increased confidence.

* * *

"Alright, I think that just about sums up the admin work, any questions?" Tilda McCrae, the elderly woman in black, snapped shut a folder and passed it over to Hermione who had returned to her calm, collected self.

"I don't think so," the young witch said with a smile, retrieving the file which contained all of her new hire documents.

"Perfect, we'll break for tea and then meet back here to discuss the project you'll be working on for the next little while."

Hermione nodded, a faint feeling of excitement bubbling within her at the thought of an actual work project. An adult task that didn't involve wiping poop or cutting fruit gummies out of hair.

Tilda smiled, she was the head of Magical Law Enforcement and the young man beside her was Charles - her personal assistant.

The two got up and began walking out of the room when McCrae poked her head back in, addressing the fuchsia clad woman.

"Tahiri, will you find Malfoy and let him know that he's needed for this next part?"

Granger's heart sunk again at the mention of the man, wondering how long she had to work in a department before she could request a transfer.

Zahra gave her superior a curt nod and made a move to leave before Hermione stopped her.

"Sorry, do you know anywhere I can go to pump?" She asked sheepishly, reflexively crossing her arms over her chest.

Her breasts felt like they were about to explode.

Tahiri grimaced as she wracked her brain.

"There's a private washroom down the hall?" She offered unsurely.

Hermione bit her tongue, offering the russet skinned woman a genuine smile before thanking her.

Tahiri had given the new employee her best suggestion and it wasn't her fault that Hermione didn't want to pump her son's food in the same place people went to relieve bodily waste.

She wondered if she could run to Harry's office and pump there, but by the time she made it to the Auror department, assembled her damn machine and began pumping, she'd have to leave again.

Left with no choice, the dejected mother made her way to the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind her as she turned to face herself in the enormous mirror.

Her eyes looked tired, the small bit of mascara she'd applied this morning had already smeared behind her eyelids and her chignon was a frizzy mess.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled out the breast pump from her beaded purse, eventually setting up her store on the fancy marble counter.

She carefully unzipped her dress again and laid it over the gold towel rack before hooking herself up to be milked.

Hermione retrieved a banana from the depths of her purse and peeled the fruit, knowing that in a few minutes she would be starving.

Feeling overlooked, misplaced and utterly alone, she stood half-naked in the middle of the washroom and began blinking back her tears as the monotonous buzzing of the pump filled the air.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Granger-Weasley was redressed and had recovered from the second emotional breakdown of the morning.

She was in the process of untangling the insufferable pump tubes when she opened the door to leave the bathroom.

She was paying so much attention to dissassembling the machine that she nearly ran headfirst into a figure dressed in black.

"Sorry, I-" Hermione's words died in her throat when she saw that it was Malfoy.

She immediately stepped backwards and felt her expression harden as the blonde quickly scanned the device in her arms before glancing back at the lavatory door.

The faintest trace of a scowl settled on his features as his icy gaze returned to the pump in her arms.

Hermione had an incredible urge to punch the prick in the face, but somehow resisted temptation. Instead she recalled the satisfying crunch beneath her fist the first time she had hit him square on the nose at the age of thirteen.

Who the hell was he to judge her?

No doubt he was worried that her Mudblood breast milk might be all over the walls.

She was about to walk away when he abruptly stepped around his former schoolmate and disappeared into the loo, leaving her in a cloud of bergamot, leather and a surprisingly sweet whisper of rose petals.

She snorted out the smell as though it had burned her nostrils and crammed the breastpump back into her beaded purse before clip clopping angrily down the corridor towards the conference room.

That absolute bastard was the last person she wanted to see - let alone work with - but that was the last time she would be caught off guard by the arrogant bully. She had spent her adolescence being tortured by him and wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he still had the same affect on her, nearly a decade later.

She burst into the room with an angry huff but the sight of nearly a dozen fluffy pastries and gourmet bagels wiped the scowl clean off her face.

Her stomach rumbled in response and she had to stop herself from running head first into the trays of strudels and eclairs.

Instead she carefully smoothed out her dress and took a seat as far away from the one Malfoy had previously occupied.

She poured herself another glass of water and looked around the empty room, wondering who brought the desserts when the doors opened and Charles walked in talking animatedly to Tilda about the latest Puddlemere United match. Zahra followed close behind, holding a polystyrene cup of steaming tea as she nodded at Draco who closed the door behind him. The blonde continued to whisper something to the tall Kenyan woman and she nodded again before all four of them took a seat around Hermione.

"Right, so before we get started let's get the important stuff out of the way - everyone help yourselves," McCrae grinned waving her hands towards the pastries before loading a cornetto onto her plate.

Everyone chuckled and despite her desire to mow down the rest of the people in the room to get to the chocolate eclairs, she waited for the others to select their choices before grabbing her prize.

She noticed with an internal eye roll that Draco hadn't touched the food.

"So, down to business," McCrae continued through a mouthful of custard. "Everyone in this room knows that the last two wizarding wars were a direct result of Pureblood elitism."

Hermione nearly choked on her water.

"You guys are here because _together_, we're going to eliminate the archaic laws and outlandish attitudes towards Muggleborns and Half-Bloods."

The Hogwarts graduate honestly had no idea how to react to Tilda's statement. She wanted more than anything to be a part of this movement - to help protect children like herself who were still bullied and rejected because of their blood status.

But McCrae had definitely picked the wrong team if she thought Draco Malfoy was going to do anything but scoff at her remark. She half expected the blonde to get up and throw a glass of water in the old woman's face before threatening to tell his father of what she'd dared to utter.

But Charles looked at his boss proudly, Tahiri nodded enthusiastically and Draco simply frowned at the table as though it were a tragic play.

Tilda seemed to sense Hermione's reservations and continued to elaborate, giving the newest employee a pointed look.

"_Every_ person in this room is here because they have something monumental to offer. Tahiri was the head of an organized movement against Voldemort's followers in Nairobi and is now the department head of International Magical Cooperation."

Charles let out a loud holler and began clapping.

Hermione laughed and so did McCrae and Tahiri.

"Granger-Weasley and Malfoy…" There was a short pause while she looked at both of them, a deep look of pity in her brown eyes. "You're both here because I want you to be the faces of our campaign."

"Why _us_?" Hermione blurted out, confusion and irritation evident in her tone. "Why not you and Tahiri?"

"Because I don't deal with press releases or bullshit," Zahra replied bluntly, sitting back in her seat.

"Because Malfoy still has strong ties with the remaining Pureblood families who defected before or after the war, and they are far more likely to listen to reason if it's coming from one of their own. They need someone who came back from the elitist brainwashing. Someone who came back from Voldemort's side and is now doing something to make a difference."

Hermione forced down the bile at the back of her throat. Bitterness making her refuse to believe any of the things Tilda had said about his reformed character.

"And Granger, you're here because I literally have no one better to represent the Muggleborns of the world. You are living, breathing proof that Muggleborns are not only equal to us, but among the _best_ of us all."

Her throat felt like it was closing and she could sense - with a hint of panic - another emotional breakdown peering over her shoulder.

The young witch quickly took an enormous bite of the chocolate eclair and immediately felt the sweet, false sense of happiness wash through her, keeping the ugly monster named anxiety at bay.

"Hermione, I specifically asked for you when I found out you were coming back to work. That's why you're not buried under Creature Regulation Codes right now."

The mother of two nearly scoffed, taking another bite of the pastry as she tried desperately not to cry. She would much rather be buried under parchment than here.

She'd made a terrible mistake coming back to work. Her hormones were all over the place and she had the emotional stability of a toddler.

"This is going to be a long, difficult fight and I need you and Malfoy working _together_ in close quarters if this is going to work."

There was a palpable silence in the conference room as all eyes landed on her and Draco.

"Are you guys up to the task?"

Hermione nearly got up and walked out. She was so close, but remembered her promise to herself. She was done letting the memory of a teenage boy crush her self worth. She would work with Draco and she would let him see how strong she had become because of all she'd been through.

The young woman nodded curtly in response as Draco did the same.

"Excellent, now we can move onto the minutiae."

* * *

Nearly two hours later, the team broke again for lunch.

Hermione was sweating like a cow and her breasts were ready to pop again.

She was the first to leave the room as she needed to pump first.

The young woman quietly made her way down the corridor towards the washroom when she heard the sound of someone running towards her.

She whipped around to see the striking figure of Zahra closing in on her, smiling widely as she waved the confused girl over.

"You don't have to pump in the toilet anymore, someone told me there's a free room down the next hall - number 306."

Hermione blinked back her surprise.

"Oh...thank you. That's brilliant!"

The Kenyan smiled and waved goodbye as she departed.

Granger-Weasley followed her colleague's directions until she came to Room 306.

She opened the door and was pleasantly surprised at the spacious office; it was furnished with teal sofas with big pillows, a table and a small cooler at the foot of the large oak desk.

Hermione grinned from ear to ear, locking the door behind her and drawing the curtains as she plopped down on the cushy couch, failing to register the scent of bergamot, leather and rose petals.


	4. Chapter 4

**Please remember to review with your lovely comments!**

Also, I didn't have time to get this chapter Beta'd so of you find anything wonky, please let me know so I can fix it! Love y'all.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR **

* * *

"For she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow - and so say all of us!"

"Good lord, Harry stop it," Hermione covered her face which was an alarming shade of red as she snatched the bouquet of Stargazer lilies out of her best friend's hand.

Harry grinned, fixing his round glasses as he turned to face the few people milling about in the halls.

In many ways, the Boy-Who-Lived hadn't changed at all since the first day she'd met him. He still had a headful of unruly black hair that stuck out in every direction, a thin, wiry frame and a kind, goofy personality that always managed to earn him a clout from Hermione.

"Wait, there's one more verse." He took a deep breath, ready to start bellowing the remainder of the song when she smacked the back of his head with her flowers.

"Shut up!" The girl hissed, trying desperately to seem menacing despite the smile which refused to leave her face.

Auror Potter had completely surprised her, showing up unannounced at the front counter with a bouquet and card to celebrate his friend's first day back at work.

It was a sweet and wonderful gesture that instantly brightened her day - until he'd started singing.

"Right, what does the working mom fancy for her first lunch without kids?" Harry asked, fiddling with her coat as he held it out for her.

"Merlin, I don't even know," Hermione answered, wracking her brain as they entered the lift. She figured something comforting would be nice. "How about a chip butty?"

The Auror screwed his face up at her. "This is your first lunch in two years without kids and you want chips on white bread smothered in butter?"

"Well, not when you put it like that…" The young witch replied haughtily.

"No, no - it's your choice," Harry said with his hands up in a show of concession. "I just thought you might want to go somewhere a bit more posh."

"After the morning I've had, I just want something lowkey," Hermione muttered as they exited the lift and stepped out into the bustling Atrium.

"Why, what's happened?"

"It's been rough being away from Hugo and Rose. I keep wondering if they're being fed properly or if they're crying for me," the mother sighed wearily, trying not to let her worries get the best of her.

"You know, despite what you _might_ think, Ron is a grown man - he can take care of those kids just as well as you," Harry said, clasping his arm around her shoulders.

"I know, it's probably harder for me than it is for them."

"Exactly."

"I guess I'm just looking for a way out," Hermione declared, shrugging.

"Out of...?"

She sighed.

"Working with Draco Malfoy for the foreseeable future."

Harry stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

Hermione began to explain all that had transpired that morning as they made their way to a small pub across the street from Whitehall, slowed down only by her careful tiptoeing around patches of ice - Winter and high heels did not go well together.

"That's tough luck, Hermione," Harry offered quietly. The expression on her friend's face was sympathetic but she could tell from his eyes that he was keeping something from her.

"What is it?"

"Hmm?"

"That face - you only make that face when you're trying to keep your mouth shut."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh please, Harry. I've known you since you were eleven, you're going to have to try harder if you want to lie to me," Hermione declared, taking a bite out of her butty.

Her best friend of nearly twenty years shook his head in defeat, swallowing a huge mouthful of bangers and mash.

"It's just...we've all changed since the war. Maybe Malfoy has too," Harry explained, shrugging.

Hermione gawked at him.

"Are you _defending_ Draco Malfoy?" She asked incredulously, trying to hide the outrage in her tone.

The wizard sighed, putting his fork down as he reached over the table to grab his friend's hand.

"I just don't want you to miss out on this campaign. We're adults now, and even back then - he knew he was on the wrong side towards the end."

"So I should just forgive him for everything he said and did to us because he happened to realize he was on the losing side?"

Harry squeezed her hand before returning to his lunch, scarfing down the potatoes.

"All i'm sayin' is tha'-"Harry swallowed and chased down the mash with a glass of water-"Hermione Granger is too mature - and far too clever - to let that ferret get in her way. If he _has _changed, then great. If he hasn't, then you move on with your life and hope the next year passes quickly."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend while she took another bite of her sandwich, chewing on her lunch and Harry's words while the two ate in silence.

"I like your dress," he added after a while. "I noticed that you haven't bothered covering _it_ up," Potter said suddenly, his eyes still carefully on his plate while he chewed.

The girl instantly grabbed her forearm, knowing exactly what her friend was referring to.

"As much as I hate it, it's a part of me now," she said with a slight grimace. She had tried everything to get rid of the ugly scar after the war, but the sadistic Death Eater had cursed her blade.

No spell or procedure could ever get rid of it.

"No point in being ashamed of it. That's exactly what B-" the woman pursed her lips, forcing herself to say the name-"_Bellatrix_ would have wanted."

Harry positively beamed at his mate.

"I'm proud of you, Hermione."

The two shared a long look, wordlessly exchanging their love and support for one another.

They ate the rest of their meal in contented silence and after they had finished, the Auror took a swig of his drink and cleared his throat to speak.

"Are you lot free this weekend?"

"As far as I know."

"Brilliant, then you can come over for dinner!" Harry said brightly. "Ginny and I have got some news."

Hermione glared at the son of James and Lilly Potter with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Harry...is Ginny…?"

The father of two grinned.

"HARRY!?" The witch cupped her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing with delight, instantly jumping headlong to her own conclusions. "Is Ginny pregnant?"

"Oh, would you look at the time!" The dark haired man said with a small smirk, checking his non existent wristwatch as he got up and pulled on his coat.

"Harry James Potter, you tell me this _instant!_" Hermione demanded, getting up to smack him on the shoulder.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Ginny when you see her on Saturday." The Auror was thoroughly enjoying himself as he put a few muggle notes on the table. "Although if she isn't pregnant and you accuse her, she might hex you for calling her fat."

"Harry!"

But the man was already halfway towards the exit, beckoning her to come along while he smiled wickedly.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a post-lunch, sleepy blur that made Hermione nearly holler with joy when Charles brought in a tray of coffee for the team.

She had barely been able to keep her eyes open, but forced herself to stifle yawn after yawn as she furiously scribbled notes while McCrae broke down the campaign into four stages.

Stage one would start tomorrow and last until the New Year, until which time the team had been tasked with finding and cataloging all of the existing laws regarding Purebloods and Muggleborns.

This elicited long groans from everyone except Hermione.

Yes, it would be time consuming and tedious, but it meant she got to spend the next 3 months burying her nose into old legislations and statutes, highlighting notes and possibly colour coding an entire room full of parchment - and she was being paid for it!

The thought made her stomach fill with butterflies.

Stage two would include proposing and re-writing the laws with revisions or choosing to abolish them altogether.

Stage three was to be spent spreading public awareness about the campaign and to gain support for the movement - this is where McCrae noted that Hermione and Draco would be monumental in swaying opinion and favour.

Stage four was lobbying, and finally having ministry officials vote on the changes made to their legislations.

All in all, it was going to be a long, hard fought process that Tilda optimistically quoted as a "year-long-struggle."

Whatever the case, Mrs. Granger-Weasley was enthusiastic about the project, and as her colleagues began saying goodbye and collecting their items, she gave them a genuine smile.

Looking around, Hermione noticed that no one else had bothered to take notes, let alone 10 pages worth.

"Merlin, I didn't think I'd talked _that _much," McCrae joked, eyeing the impressive stack of parchment the newest employee was trying to sort through.

"No, no! You didn't - it's just an old habit of mine," Hermione explained sheepishly, quickly throwing the pages into a pile before standing up to leave.

"Keep it up, it's brilliant," Tilda praised as she beamed at her new recruit.

The young witch couldn't help but grin - her old days spent as teacher's lap dog shining through as she was filled with satisfaction at her boss' remark.

A quiet scoff shattered the happy moment as Hermione noticed Draco roll his icy, blue-grey eyes as he got up to take his exit.

The woman grit her teeth at him, but remembered Harry's words - there was no way she was going to let a ferret like Malfoy get in the way of her happiness.

McCrae and Charles were the first ones out the door, followed closely by Tahiri and Malfoy. The blonde took one glance to his right, saw that she wasn't directly behind him, and let the door fall shut.

_What a gentleman, s_he thought sarcastically.

Before she could take another step, she saw a small square of paper flutter from Draco's form and land face down on the floor as the door closed.

Hermione paused for a moment, her initial reaction was to go and stomp her heel through whatever it was that he'd dropped. However, she kept reminding herself that she was no longer an emotionally unstable 13 year old.

No, she was better than that- she was an emotionally unstable 27 year old and they did not stomp their heels through things.

Perhaps she should just leave it on the floor and walk out the door, but after a few more seconds of pursing her lips at it, her curiosity got the best of her.

Carefully kneeling down, the girl plucked the glossy paper from the azure carpet and instantly realized from the weight and feel of the item that it was photograph.

She gingerly turned it over.

Two bright, smiling faces greeted Hermione and she immediately recognized Draco - his platinum blonde hair shone just as brightly but it was tousled and messy, his pearl grey eyes were tired but ecstatic and brimming with tears, and his smile - it was completely and utterly foreign.

She had never, in the seven years at Hogwarts with the boy, seen him relay anything on his features that wasn't a smug smirk or a condescending grin. But this...it was genuine and it left Hermione feeling as though she had just seen the true form of a Boggart and discovered it to be utterly harmless.

The second face in the picture took a moment of staring until she realized that it was Astoria.

Or what was left of her at the time.

Hermione felt her own eyes well with moisture as she put her hand to her mouth in abject horror.

The striking brunette, once the image of youth and vitality had been reduced to a withered husk of her former self.

Her green eyes has sunken an inch into her face, which was sallow and pale. Her skin looked leathery and tight, as though she hadn't eaten in months. And her hair was thin and wispy, as though her body was too weak to keep replacing any that she might have lost.

Despite her desiccated appearance, Astoria's smile was as bright and beautiful as it had always been. She grinned widely and looked at her husband who was staring affectionately at the small bundle wrapped in her frail arms.

Mrs. Malfoy pecked the baby on the forehead just as Draco leaned in to do the same to his wife.

Both parents beamed at each other, completely lost in their new world and Hermione quickly turned the photo back over.

She sat there for a few seconds, unsure of how to feel and even more unsure of what to do with the memento.

Perhaps she _should have_ just left it there on the floor; but knowing what she knew now, there's no way she could let it stay where it could be accidentally trodden on.

As much as she might have despised Malfoy, the keepsake was a stark reminder of everything he had been through in the past two years, and suddenly her hatred turned halfway into pity.

Not knowing what else to do, Hermione pocketed the photograph and stood up, ready to head home after a long day of mixed emotions.

She couldn't help but think of Draco and his little family as they had been once - together, happy and full of love, while a small part of her hoped that he would eventually find someone else to share his heartwarming smile with.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione expected screaming children and a whining husband as soon as she stepped through the fireplace, but to her amazement she was greeted by absolutely no one.

Not only that, but the house was spotless.

She could actually _see _the floor; not just a patch of brown laminate drowning in a mess of toys, but the _entire floor. _

The clean house coupled with the distinct lack of shrieking made Hermione wonder if she had accidentally arrived at the wrong address.

After a few more seconds of bewildered staring, the mother of two stepped through the fireplace and was instantly met with the gentle aroma of browning onions.

She tiptoed towards the kitchen, half wondering if Molly had come to rescue her son halfway through the day.

But once she poked her head into the miraculously clean kitchen, there were only three people present.

Rose was helping Ron stir a steaming pot of spaghetti while Hugo was balanced carefully on his father's hip, sucking on the orange filling of a jaffa cake.

Hermione didn't want to say she was annoyed by the clean house, the lack of dishes, the quiet kids and the head start on dinner, but it was as though Ronald had done all of it to show her up.

Hugo was the first to spot his mother and instantly began wriggling, squealing with delight as he alerted his sister and father to the intruder staring at them as though she were watching foreign animals at the zoo.

Rose ran over and clung onto Hermione like a vise, tiny hands grabbing and clawing as she clambered onto her mother

Ronald flashed her a wide smile; there in his bright blue eyes was the same shining warmth that had so readily captured her heart during their school days. She had nearly forgotten what it looked like and seeing him so happy once more made the young witch's irritation dissipate immediately.

She was tired and emotional after the long day at work and seeing that her husband had done so remarkably well in her absence wasn't helping.

A small part of her wanted to see him drown in the mundane, everyday menial tasks that had driven her half insane for the past two years. But she knew that part of her was simply being petty, and Hermione forced a smile onto her lips as her red-headed partner pecked her on the forehead.

Ronald was happy, and that's all that mattered right now.

* * *

The next day began in the same mess of tears and emotions as Hermione left her family again, heart aching for Rose who had shrieked hysterically when she realized mummy was leaving again.

The young mother had nearly packed it in right then and there but Ronald forced her to get up amidst her own sobbing and get out of the house.

Now surrounded by a throng of bustling witches and wizards, she wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath to regain her composure. She belonged here, she was one of them - she could do this.

Feeling like an emotional mess, Hermione's hazel eyes sought out the only thing that seemed to instantly brighten her mood - coffee.

A few minutes later she was sipping on a steaming hot cuppa with just a trace of a smile on her face as she made her way towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Perhaps today wouldn't be so awful after all.

* * *

"Tahiri!"

The tall, dark skinned witch snapped her attention over to Hermione who smiled sheepishly before making her way over with a marked envelope in hand.

"Could I ask you to give this to Malfoy?" Granger requested, carefully brandishing the item to Zahra who raised an eyebrow at the other woman.

Draco's former schoolmate had been trying to think of a way to return his photograph to him for twenty minutes straight but each scenario ended up with uncomfortable silence and her punching him in the face at some point.

She finally decided it was safer if she got someone else to do it.

"Writing him love letters?" Tahiri teased, eyeing the envelope with the name MALFOY scrawled across the front in Hermione's handwriting.

The young witch snorted loudly at the outlandish prospect. She would rather burn all the parchment in the world than write Draco Malfoy a letter with any sentiment other than resentment.

"Decidedly not," the mother of two replied sardonically. "I think he would rather blind himself."

Zahra frowned at her reply and Hermione realized that the bumpy, hate filled Hogwarts relationship between the arrogant Slytherin and herself was not common knowledge.

"Sorry, that was rude - he dropped something that I don't think he would appreciate me seeing and-"

"Spare me," the Kenyan witch pleaded, snatching the photo from her hands and winking at Hermione before casually taking her seat.

The newest committee member smiled and returned to her own chair, wrapping her fingers around the warm polystyrene cup and lifting the liquid gold to her lips, relishing in the sweet, slightly bitter drink.

The euphoric bliss of her coffee was soured by the sight of Draco as he entered the meeting room, platinum blonde hair flawless as ever. His pointed face was set in a permanent scowl and he was dressed head to toe in a grey suit that probably cost more than her house.

His cold grey eyes scanned the room, lingering on her for a second before he quietly took a seat beside Tahiri.

The witch from Nairobi coolly slid the envelope over to Draco who frowned at it before plucking it from the table as though it were a dirty sock, perusing the penmanship on the front.

"You dropped this," Zara explained, never looking at the wizard beside her.

Hermione's heart caught in her throat as the man gingerly opened the flap and pulled out the memento. His expression immediately softened and instead of the anger, embarrassment or sadness she had expected him to convey, he smiled.

Not a sad, forlorn smile at painful memories long gone, but a sweet, heartwarming smile full of joy and love and laughter.

Granger-Weasley's hazel eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared at Draco's face as though she were staring into the Sun. She knew she shouldn't have been looking, but it was just so bright and brilliant that she couldn't help herself.

"Thank you," he offered sincerely, his grey eyes swimming with affection as he thumbed the photo in his hand before tucking it into the breast pocket of his grey blazer.

"Alright kids, time to get down to business!" McCrae barked, clapping her hands together as she bustled into the room with Charles in tow. "We're going to split up into our teams today."

Hermione's stomach did a painful flop as she held her breath, hoping beyond hope that their boss had changed her mind about pairing her with Draco.

"We'll reconvene in here every Monday to touch base, but other than that Tahiri and Charles, you'll be working in Boardroom A, Granger and Malfoy in Boardroom C"-Tilda took a big gulp of her tea as Hermione's hope faltered-"and I'll be in my office! Good luck."

The mother of two skulked in her chair for a moment, hoping that this was some kind of awful dream that she'd soon wake from.

Draco got up and headed straight for the doors, holding it open long enough for Hermione to catch up behind him, careful not to spill her coffee all over his pristine clothing. Before she could even contemplate thanking him, the blonde man disappeared around a corner.

However rude, the Gryffindor was grateful for the few moments of solitude as she stepped into Boardroom C and balked at the set up. The two leather backed chairs were crammed in beside each other as close as they could get around the shining oak table which had been prepared with a fresh tray of pastries.

Hermione stomped over and yanked one of the recliners away from the other, fuming at the forced camaraderie between her and Draco that had been clearly orchestrated by McCrae.

The witch dragged the chair as far away from the other as possible with one hand while she balanced a pile of pastries in the other. Finally satisfied, Granger-Weasley plopped down and rummaged through her bag, pulling out at least twenty multi colored highlighters, a pouch full of sticky notes, a pack of notepads, binder tabs and a handful of black quills. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins at the sight of her neatly organized stationary supplies and went through her plan of attack once more.

She would categorize laws in different coloured binder tabs by decade, then subcategorize by year and then location. She was also planning on adding extensive footnotes on each file.

The young witch smiled, utterly at peace with herself as the familiar feeling of logic and categorization flooded her senses, filling her with a wonderful euphoria that she hadn't felt since preparing for her OWLS.

Just then she heard the door creak and watched the only child of Lucius and Narcissa enter the room with a small cup of steaming tea and a single pen.

They both assessed each other's tools and stared at the other as though insane, clearly disagreeing on the amount of supplies needed to tackle their project.

The blonde Slytherin shook his head, the faintest whisper of a smirk playing across his lips as he took a seat on the opposite end of the room.

Hermione grit her teeth, annoyed with the fleeting pang of self doubt he seemed to fill her with each time that all too familiar, arrogant smirk resurfaced.

It was going to take a miracle for the next year to pass without her physically harming the precocious toad.

Deciding that it was time to bury themselves in parchment, the witch got up and made her way to the file desks at the back of the boardroom. She traced the word "Muggleborns" into the top of the desk with her wand, each letter glowing gold for a moment before she tapped the desk once and waited for the _ping!_

She pulled open the drawer and retrieved the enormous stack of files in varying shades of yellow, dropping them quite indelicately onto the table.

Draco sat contentedly, eyes never leaving his tea.

Silently fuming, the woman made three more trips to the file desk until there were six heaping stacks of aging parchment and manilla file folders.

_Great team, _she thought sarcastically, separating the piles of work with her wand.

She picked up a quill and ripped a piece of paper from her notepad, scribbling MALFOY on it before sticking it to the tower of files on the left. If they were going to be working on these for the next three months, Hermione didn't want him touching her stuff.

She hastily wrote GRANGER on another page and attached it to the top of the stack she claimed as her own before using her wand to send Draco's share sliding towards him with just enough momentum to bump his tea, splashing a bit of the clear liquid onto the table.

The witch smiled smugly to herself, feeling slightly better after her childish act of revenge.

She sat down and took a bite of her croissant, chasing it back with a sip of her now tepid drink before pulling the topmost folder towards herself, eager to get started.

But she noticed her supposed teammate freeze before standing up and selecting the scrap paper she had affixed to his share.

He stood silently for a few seconds staring at her note.

_Lunatic. _

Draco reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the envelope Tahiri had given him earlier and Hermione's heart dropped out of her arse.

She realized then, as he held up both pieces of paper, that he was comparing the penmanship - which was undoubtedly identical.

The woman's uncontrollable need to label _everything_ under the Sun had come back to bite her in the arse.

She could feel her cheeks beginning to flush and tried sinking lower into her chair as her former schoolmate turned to study her with his cold grey eyes.

The room was painfully quiet for a solid minute as Hermione read the first line of her paper at least twenty times without understanding a single word.

"Thank you."

The woman froze, entirely unsure of what to say. In the decade she had known him, Draco Malfoy had not once spoken a single kind word to her, and so hearing him thank her now - with no trace of nastiness - was a complete shock.

"I'm sorry for what happened to Astoria," Hermione offered quietly, never taking her eyes off the file in front of her.

And with that, the two worked in silence for the rest of the day.

* * *

The week had passed and the two colleagues had said nothing more to one another, each coming in every morning to chairs that miraculously ended up arm to arm and an array of fresh fruits and sweets.

They both studiously wheeled their seats a few feet away before getting straight to their tasks.

There was one point on Friday afternoon as Hermione tapped her quill on the table while reading a particularly outlandish law from the 1800's that banned any Muggleborns from becoming high ranking officials, when Draco had reached over to grab Hermione's hand.

The girl's heart tried coming out of her mouth and despite the alarming shade of red she had turned, Hermione nearly smacked him back into his mother's womb at the random, unwanted display of affection until she realized he was trying to quiet her tapping quill.

This had earned him an outraged scoff which had only made the corner of Malfoy's mouth turn up into a small smirk before he took his hand away from hers, grey eyes never leaving the parchment in front of him as he left Mrs. Ronald Weasley's skin burning from his icy touch.

The weekend went by in an absolute blur; dinner at Harry and Ginny's had turned out to be - as she had predicted - a pregnancy announcement. Hermione was over the moon for them but couldn't fathom how on Earth the pair wanted a _third _child.

The remainder of her time had been spent grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking and thinking of Christmas presents for her husband, the kids, her parents, Ron's parents, Harry, people from work and the rest of Ron's family. It was a nightmare to say the least, and as she eyed her spouse kick back contentedly with naught a care in the world, she wondered how in the blazes _she_ had ended up as Father Christmas to everyone on _his _list as well as hers.

The Hogwarts graduate's second week of work came and went without any incident. She was growing accustomed to the absolute silence in which she and her colleague worked, the only things which broke the quiet were rustling parchment, the sound of pen on paper and her ever important coffee which always seemed to land on the desk with a deafening _thud. _They nodded to each other once in the morning as they arrived and once as they left for home.

It was as civilized a relationship with Draco Malfoy as she could have ever hoped.

Things at home were getting better too - Ronald was really coming into his own. He was one hundred times more attentive, and they'd had more sex in the past two weeks than in the previous two months combined. He was laughing and smiling and joking with her and the kids. Ron had taught Rosie the entire alphabet and Hugo could now bark like a dog when asked "where's the puppy?"

It shamed Hermione to no end that she had failed to get as far in two years with her kids as her husband had in two weeks. It hurt her maternal dignity, but she quashed the insecurities and focused instead on how proud she was of all three of them.

They were flourishing, and so was she. She noticed that her skin looked more radiant, her eyes less tired and even the way she carried herself was different; as though the weight of a thousand invisible burdens had been lifted from her shoulders.

She felt like herself again; driven, focused and for the first time since becoming a mother, she felt as though she had a clear purpose in life.

The start of her third week came around much too quickly, and the young witch found herself kissing her family goodbye.

"Mione, you free around noon today?" Ron asked just before she stepped into the fireplace.

"Most likely, what's going on?" Hermione inquired, suddenly suspicious.

The red-head snorted and shook his head. "Nothing's wrong, I was going to see if you were busy, and if not"- he shrugged nonchalantly- "you might have a few visitors come to the office for lunch."

"That would be wonderful," his wife gushed, coming out of the Floo to give her lanky spouse a hug.

"Well, don't bank on it either," he laughed, kissing her deeply. "We'll see how the kids naps go, but we'll try to be there."

"Sounds lovely, see you!" Hermione called, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder before she disappeared in a flash of emerald flames.

"Come here sweetheart!" Hermione cooed as she scooped her daughter up. Ronald and the kids had arrived shortly after twelve and were now making the rounds as the mother proudly showed her family off to her coworkers.

Harry had stopped by as well and was now chatting with Ron who had Hugo on one hip and a nappy bag resting on the other. She didn't want to interrupt their conversation and decided to take Rose into McCrae's office alone, freezing when she saw silver blonde hair in the chair opposite Tilda's desk.

She slowly tried backing out of the doorway but the wizened witch spotted them, her weathered face cracking into a huge grin when she saw Rose.

_Shit._

"Granger! Is that yours?"

The woman in question laughed nervously, nodding as she plopped the squirming toddler onto the ground before taking hold of her daughter's hand and encroaching into the office once more.

"Rosie can you say hullo?"

The rambunctious two year old shook her mop of fiery curls, hiding behind mommy's skirt as she eyed Tilda and Draco carefully.

Malfoy had at last decided to grace them with his attention and turned to look at Rose, a small smile on his usually stern visage as he winked at the toddler.

Rosie smiled gleefully before burying her face into Hermione's thigh, a small knot in the pit of the woman's stomach at the innocent display between her daughter and her childhood bully.

"She looks nothing like you," McCrae observed brusquely with a laugh.

The young witch snorted indelicately, earning her an odd stare from Draco which she ignored. "Yes, that's both of the kids. Not like I carried them for nine months and gave birth to them or anything," she replied acrimoniously.

McCrae sniggered before her eyes lit up as though she had remembered something important.

"Oh, before I forget! I wanted to ask if either of you need a guest ticket for the Christmas party next weekend."

"Umm, I'm not sure actually. I don't know-"

"Let me remind you _both_ that attendance for employees is mandatory, whether or not you want to bring a date is optional," Tilda shrugged.

"Well, I'll have to see if we can find a sitter, but I'll take two tickets for now," Hermione continued, twirling Rose around in a pirouette. The toddler was undoubtedly tired of this conversation.

"Just one," Draco answered, his voice and expression unreadable as he turned away from the mother and daughter in the doorway.

"Excellent," Tilda said, rummaging through her desk.

Rose had started babbling, her attention suddenly caught on something as she began showcasing her impressive use of the alphabet.

"M - Uuuu - D."

And perhaps Hermione should have realized what was happening, but she was used to drowning out her daughter's inane banter and was instead looking around McCrae's office innocently.

"B - L - O-"

At this, the witch noticed her colleagues, frozen in their seats as they stared at the two in horror.

She looked down at her daughter, half expecting to see a puddle of pee or vomit judging by their reactions. But Rose was reading the scar on her mother's forearm, the little girl's face screwed up in concentration as she tried to decipher the last two letters.

Hermione's heart fell.

"O - D!" The toddler finished triumphantly, pointing at the hideous scar carved into her flesh. "Says mommy!"

The Muggleborn felt herself choking on a thick knot which had forced its way to the back of her throat. Her face was red with anger, embarrassment and sorrow and she tried desperately not to cry as she willed herself to smile and praise the little girl at her spelling.

And for a minute Hermione thought she was going to power her way through the wrecking ball of emotions that threatened to break the floodgate of her psyche. Then she made the mistake of looking up and locking gazes with Draco.

There in the usually cold, grey depths of his eyes was the unmistakable look of pity, shame and remorse.

Maybe it was because this was the same man who had been the first one to label her a filthy Mudblood in front of her peers, the first one to destroy her self worth and esteem, the first one to torment and taunt her because of her blood status, that she burst into tears.

Feeling utterly foolish, Hermione grabbed Rose and left the room just as Draco stood up, his expression pained. She didn't care, and as though the twelve year old girl with bushy hair and buck teeth had returned, she stormed down the hall to find Ronald and Harry.

The two men stared at her in utter bewilderment, incessantly asking what had happened before the woman managed to pull herself together. She took a deep breath and gave her kids a peck on the cheek, drawing strength from their love and innocence.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, I'll be fine," Granger assured her husband. "I have to get back to work though, I'll see you all later."

Ron nodded, still perturbed while Harry bent down to scoop Rose into his arms.

Hermione smiled appreciatively at them through a sea of tears, hastily turning on her heel and heading towards Boardroom C. She would have gladly holed herself up in an empty room for the remainder of the afternoon, but her own office wasn't to be set up until the New Year.

She entered the room and walked to the furthest corner, staring straight at the cream coloured walls as she tried to get a hold of her emotions.

Just then she heard the door creak open.

"Ronald, I told you, I don't want to talk about it right now."

When she was answered with silence, the young woman turned around to address the intruder, her breath hitching in her throat as she saw Malfoy.

He was standing halfway across the boardroom with a somber expression, looking at her as though she were a wild animal that might attack if he moved too fast.

He had ditched the navy blue blazer and was fidgeting with the cuff on his button down dress shirt as he assessed the situation.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked acerbically, in no mood for his company.

"I..I'm sorry."

The apology hung heavy in the air for a minute before the girl he had tormented for years at school turned to look him dead in the eye.

"What?"

Draco Malfoy hung his head, running his hand through his hair as he grappled for the right words to say.

"When Scorpious first saw my Mark, I tried…" the man cleared his throat, swallowing hard before he pulled up the sleeve on his left arm.

Hermione nearly gasped, putting her hand to her mouth instead as she saw the mangled mess of black ink and grotesque chunks of missing flesh which had long since healed over.

"...I tried cutting it out of my arm."

The woman's tears spilled from behind her lashes as she held her own arm close to her chest, unsure of what to say or feel.

"I'm sorry for everything...everything I said and did, and everything I didn't say and didn't do." He announced, his own eyes brimming with tears as he stared at the woman in front of him, covering his arm up once more. "That includes all the awful names I called you, all the times I made you feel inferior and most of all... that includes not stopping my aunt."

His former schoolmate felt a wracking sob escape her lips as she covered her mouth again, her chest feeling as though it would explode at the sheer amount of raw emotion she felt at his words.

She didn't know if it was closure - finally receiving an apology from _anyone_ involved in that awful night, or if it was anger at his attempt to explain his inaction or sadness that he had been affected as much as she'd been.

"I was a spineless coward, afraid of my own shadow and what the Dark Lord would do to us if we resisted. But I knew, clear as day, that it was wrong. I just did nothing."

Draco looked at her, long and hard, his expression careful as she shied away from his gaze. She was a hysterical mess and he was the last person she wanted to see.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, and a part of me doesn't want you to. I don't think I deserve your forgiveness... but just know that I'd take it all back if I could."

With that, Mr. Malfoy hesitantly left the room, leaving his peer in a newly dredged sea of emotions that she hadn't before thought possible - her blind hatred of Draco slowly starting to melt away.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the afternoon had passed in a strange sort of trance as Tilda came to check on her, suggesting she take the remainder of the day off. At first she had refused the idea, afraid of the onslaught of emotions that would resurface when she had to face her husband, but Hermione barely remembered explaining to Ronald what had transpired in McCrae's office.

"That slimy git was probably over the moon," he spat angrily, closing his arms around her in a bone crushing embrace. His wife sighed internally; she knew the youngest Weasley boy would immediately find someone to blame for what had happened.

"He seemed almost as upset as I did."

"Yeah, probably because daddy wasn't there to witness it," he answered caustically.

She opened her mouth to tell him of the apology Draco had offered afterwards, but no words came out. Something deep down inside the woman kept her from doing so, knowing that no matter what the other man said or did to atone for his sins, her stubborn and unforgiving partner would never see the Slytherin in any light except evil.

She was already battling with her own insecurities regarding the blonde, and felt as though she needed to come to terms with them on her own before adding anyone else's opinions. Especially when her husband's opinion was so begrudgingly one sided.

She decided to simply stay silent and enjoy the comforting closeness of her Ronald's solid form.

* * *

Hermione barely slept that night, each toss and turn flooding her mind with new images and thoughts as she thrashed among the bedsheets as though they were trying to strangle her.

The look on Draco's face when he had exposed his arm was heartbreaking, and the appendage itself was more than grotesque. The amount of missing flesh looked as though he had been bitten by an animal, and despite the awful scarring, the Dark Mark was still clearly visible.

Had anyone else ever seen what he'd done in his desperate attempt to erase the cursed image from his body?

It made her heart hurt to think that he would now have to explain the Dark Lord's brand as well as the disfiguration to Scorpious when he was older.

His apology replayed itself over and over in her mind, as did each time he had called her a filthy little Mudblood at School. Each time he called her an ugly, buck toothed know-it-all. Each time his smug, arrogant face was there to spoil her plans.

Hermione huffed in frustration, her mind positively buzzing like a shroud of angry hornets.

What could she possibly say to Draco in the morning?

At first, she wanted nothing more than to make him feel even worse for everything he had ever done to her and her friends, but as the long hours of night crept on, the Gryffindor had come to the conclusion that the only thing she could do now was to bury the past and start fresh.

Slumber found her soon after and she awoke after two hours of sleep with a toddler shoved in her armpit and a firm resolve to find Draco Malfoy and make amends.

But after stepping through the doors of their shared workspace and finding him noticeably absent, the witch's plans fell short of fruition.

It felt as though a balloon had popped in her chest, letting out all the courage she had mustered.

Maybe he was just running late.

The minutes ticked by and Hermione tried busying herself with the work at hand - eyes snapping up to look at the door every few minutes - until it was clear her colleague was not coming in today.

She arrived the next day to find the man missing once again, her resolve slowly transforming into worry and frustration at the inability to express her feelings.

Finally, on Thursday morning - after three straight days of absence - she burst into McCrae's office, irate and ready for an explanation.

"Where is Malfoy?"

"Morning, Granger," Tilda countered, eyeing the woman warily as she put down a stack of papers.

"Where is he?" Hermione demanded once more, not waiting for an invitation to sit as she planted herself opposite the old witch.

McCrae sighed heavily.

"He's requested a transfer-"

"What!? Just like that? That little..._weasel!" _

"Granger, calm down-"

"I absolutely will not! He's taking the easy way out again, that coward! He's running away and I will not-"

"GRANGER!"

The brunette jumped in her seat, so caught up in her own anger she failed to remember that the other woman was in fact, her superior.

"He requested a transfer, but I told him to take a few days to think about it. He'll be back tomorrow to tell me his decision and if you feel so strongly about the matter, I suggest you get here before I do and change his mind."

Hermione bit her tongue, blushing slightly and feeling like an indignant child at the scolding tone in her boss' voice.

She nodded curtly before getting up to take her leave, mouth set in a firm line as she prepared herself for tomorrow.

She was _definitely _going to change his mind, whether he liked it or not.

* * *

Mrs. Granger-Weasley woke up before the rest of her family, a nervous ball festering in the pit of her stomach as she showered and got dressed.

She even used a sleeking potion on her cinnamon tresses, letting her long hair fall about her shoulders in a curtain of silky waves rather than the frizzy bun that had become her signature hair do.

Clearly, she was all business today.

Ron commented on her appearance when he woke up, eyeing her up and down with keen interest.

"Where are you headed?" He teased, picking at her straight hair with a scowl on his freckled face.

"To work, Ronald," she said with a coy smile, enjoying the way her spouse eyeballed her appreciatively. "I've got an important meeting straight away."

Her husband kissed her goodbye and wished her luck as their children began rousing upstairs.

Hermione arrived at the Ministry and beelined for her department, not even bothering to stop for her morning cup of coffee as she swiftly made her way to McCrae's office.

There were only a few people milling about the corridors and she was grateful to see Malfoy wasn't one of them.

She quickly slipped into the elderly witch's quarters and settled into her boss's chair, wondering if she should turn away from the door so Draco didn't have a chance to see her and run off.

She swiveled around in Tilda's comfy leather recliner, examining her shiny black flats in the harsh fluorescent lights while ignoring the rumbling of her stomach. She had skipped breakfast altogether, worried that anything she ate would make an untimely appearance if her emotions got the best of her.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her own thoughts and she turned around to face the wall, her stomach churning uncomfortably as she tried to force down the bile at the back of her throat.

Her heart did a steady drum roll as the footsteps came closer, the door creaking slightly as someone entered the office.

She sat stock still, too afraid to move.

"McCrae?"

Draco's deep voice filled the silent room, and Hermione took a deep, steadying breath as she withdrew her wand.

_You can do this. _

"Colloportus," she said, jumping up to aim at the door behind an absolutely dumbfounded Draco Malfoy.

He looked so bewildered that Hermione very nearly laughed, but she quashed the giggle and placed her hands on her hips, giving him an expectant look.

The man looked around himself frantically as though expecting an ambush, but when he found no one menacing or otherwise, he returned his perturbed gaze to the only child of Mr and Mrs. Granger.

"What's happening?" He asked unsurely, his blonde brows seemingly knit together as he looked even more puzzled at the fact that he was currently _not_ being attacked.

Hermione sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her arms together as though she were a professor preparing to lecture her student.

"What's happening, _Draco_-" she swallowed, ignoring the foreign feel of his name as it lingered on her tongue like a newly discovered taste-"is that I'm not letting you take the coward's way out. Not this time."

She saw a nearly imperceptible flash of anger in his grey eyes as he straightened up to his full height, regaining his cool composure as his former schoolmate continued her rehearsed speech.

"You're running away from your problems instead of dealing with them and that's unacceptable."

"If I'm not comfortable working with someone then that's none of your business," the man countered darkly.

Hermione's head nearly exploded at his words and she glared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, mouth hanging open as she grappled with the sheer irony of what he had just uttered.

"_You're_ uncomfortable?" She echoed incredulously, letting her sentiment hang in the air before she could piece together anything that wasn't profanity laden. "I come back to work after two years to find myself face to face with the same man who's home I was imprisoned and tortured in and _you're _the one who's uncomfortable?"

She saw the look of chagrin on his face, and for a second thought she'd gone too far. But if they were going to work this out, things were going to get...uncomfortable.

"_You _don't get to run away from _me_, Malfoy." She declared, daring to take a step towards the man who watched her like an injured animal. "You have to face what you did and accept it. It might not be easy, and it might be distressing and awkward but you're not doing this for me. We're both here because we have a chance to make the world a better place for our children - to spare them from the same fate we suffered."

At the mention of her two sweet, innocent babies, Hermione's eyes began to water of their own accord. She would do anything to keep them safe, and the mere thought of either of her kids experiencing any of what she had made her soul burn.

"This is so much bigger than us. So much bigger than our past. And the only way to move on is to bury that past and start anew," the young witch declared, ready for him to immediately accept her proposal.

But when Draco's grey eyes flashed up to meet hers, they were red and brimming with tears as he looked at her in what she thought was near outrage.

"That's it? You're just going to sweep it all under the rug then?" He asked through gritted teeth.

His reaction to her offer of starting fresh was the complete opposite of what she had expected and she now stood, staring dumbly at him.

"W-well...yes," the woman replied simply.

Malfoy shook his head, giving her a rueful smile as he turned away.

_He didn't want to be forgiven._

"What would you have me do? Hex you for calling me a filthy Mudblood when we were twelve?"

"Yes!" Draco turned on her, suddenly three steps closer than he had been and Hermione's blood went cold for a moment as his face contorted with anger. "I want you to despise the very thought of me."

The nonplussed Gryffindor blinked a few times, trying to understand what in Merlin's name was happening.

After a few seconds of scrambled thoughts, she steeled herself and went for the kill.

This was it, all or nothing.

"I forgive you."

"No."

"We were children-"

"That's no excuse," he spat.

"I know it's not, but we've had years to learn from our mistakes - to grow into completely different people."

Draco shook his head vehemently, as though he simply couldn't fathom why she was even considering forgiveness.

"You should be cursing me, not standing there making amends."

"Well, I'm not going to do that," Hermione stated obstinately, standing as tall as she could to glower right back at him. "And you're not going to run away."

Malfoy stepped back, rubbing his hands over his face repeatedly as though trying to wake himself from a dream.

Hermione wondered if the former Death Eater was going to take her offer or tuck his tail between his legs and run. She had planned on so much more to say during her carefully rehearsed soliloquy, but that had flown out the window.

She watched as the Slytherin cupped his mouth with one hand and placed the other under his arm, glaring at her as though she were insane.

It took a few more seconds of unsure staring before he nodded once in her direction and she smiled, a small bubble of elation filling her at the gesture of acceptance.

"As far as I'm concerned, this is the first day we've ever met," she declared, stepping forward once more as she extended a hand in greeting. "I'm Hermione Granger-Weasley."

Draco looked at her as though she were making a monumental mistake, his eyes studying her outstretched hand as he fidgeted amidst the whirlwind of a thousand unseen conflicting allegiances, emotions and paradigms that she neither knew or understood.

Slowly, as though her hand were an open flame he might burn himself upon, he finally succumbed to her will and enveloped her palm in his own.

"Draco Malfoy."

Hermione felt a floodgate somewhere deep in her mind burst at the monumental occasion; the twelve year old girl within her keeled over but the woman felt proud and stronger than ever as she faced the man who was just as broken by their childhood as she was.

His handshake was firm but he stared at her forlornly, as though certain he would let her down.

But when she offered a small smile and he reciprocated, a part of her she hadn't known was broken suddenly felt whole. She had healed physically from the war, and wondered if this was the start of her journey to emotional recovery.

And that was when she burst into tears.

Malfoy yanked his hand back as though it were a snake and stared at the sobbing woman with grey eyes the size of dinner plates, a look of helplessness painted upon his features at his inability to help the hysterical witch.

He took an awkward step forward, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but stopped short.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione shook her head, laughing suddenly as she tried not to spray saliva everywhere.

He truly must have thought she'd gone mad.

"S-sorry, I didn't expect to become so emotional," Granger explained, wiping away the fresh tears from her eyes as she took an enormous breath, steadying herself before finally regaining her composure. "I'll see you later."

Draco nodded, still frowning as she left Tilda's office after lifting the locking spell.

The Ministry employee straightened herself out once more, brushing off the skirt and blouse she wore as though it would somehow help wrangle her chaotic emotions as she made her way towards their little boardroom.

* * *

"Oh, Harry! I completely forgot about lunch today," Hermione exclaimed, smacking her forehead as she saw the raven haired Auror poke his head into her workspace.

She had been so preoccupied with confronting Malfoy that their Friday arrangements had slipped her mind almost as soon as she'd made them.

"That's fine, if you're busy we could reschedule for next week," Harry offered, slipping completely into the room.

The witch shook her head, shoving the pile of papers off her lap as she stood up, unceremoniously stretching the kink in her back before yawning hugely.

"Long day?"

"You have no idea."

She stared at the clock on the wall and frowned. It was five past noon and Draco had yet to appear.

She was worried that their reconciliation hadn't gone as smoothly as she'd thought and was unable to concentrate on anything for the entire morning.

Her brain was fried and for the first time in her life, Hermione was sick of reading.

"What do you feel like having?" Harry asked, holding the door open for her as she ungracefully yanked her jacket on.

"No idea."

Fifteen minutes later the pair found themselves seated at another Muggle restaurant, Harry scarfing down his croque monsieur as pieces of ham went flying everywhere.

His best friend eyed him distastefully as she took a bite of her own cheese and onion sandwich.

She was waiting for him to finish inhaling his food before she began speaking and took another bite of her lunch, wishing she had asked for less mayonnaise.

When the bespectacled man finally finished and reached for his Dandelion & Burdock, Hermione blurted out the single topic she had been itching to discuss.

"I made up with Malfoy," she announced, not expecting Harry to begin choking on his drink as he addressed her with a look of sheer confusion.

"You what?"

The woman recoiled from his reaction. She had been expecting this from Ronald, not Harry.

"We made up, you know - made amends-"

The dark haired man burst into laughter.

"I thought you said you made out with Malfoy this morning," he chortled. "I was going to say wow Hermione, you went from not speaking a word to full on snogging!"

His friend's face was bright red with embarrassment at such a ludicrous idea and she reached over to smack him on the arm for good measure, unable to keep from laughing.

The notion of kissing Draco made her stomach do strange somersaults, but not in an entirely unpleasant way - which was somehow even more disturbing than the original thought. She shoved them deep, deep down into a dark corner of her mind, refusing to examine them now.

"If you need someone to break the news to your husband, count me out."

"Ha-ha," Hermione rebutted scathingly, as she took another huge mouthful of her sandwich. "He's not exactly my type."

"Who, Ron or Malfoy?" Harry continued teasing, laughing as he dodged the second slap that was headed his way.

The two chuckled, Hermione reaching over for her water when the Boy Who Lived gently reached over to grab both her hands in his own, a sincere smile on his face.

"I'm proud of you," Harry admitted. "Not many people can come full circle like that."

The witch smiled back, her vision blurred by her traitor tears that were already itching to be spilled.

"I really do hope he's changed," the woman said quietly, her own doubts about the blonde resurfacing now.

"I think he has," Potter replied, letting go of her hands. "And if not, you can try snogging him and see if that changes anything."

Harry narrowly dodged the crumpled napkin that found its way sailing across the table as the two finished their meal.

* * *

The Muggleborn said bye to Harry, feeling recharged after visiting with him - as always - before she found herself opening the doors to Boardroom C, still fully expecting Draco to be absent.

She froze when she saw him leaning back casually in his chair with a crumbling piece of parchment in one hand, a cup of tea in the other.

He momentarily stopped rocking when he heard her enter the room, then continued as though uninterrupted, sipping on his steaming beverage.

Hermione immediately noticed a second scarlet cup sitting innocently in front of her recliner, making her stop dead in her tracks.

She looked around the room, almost expecting to see a third person appear from behind a stack of parchment to claim the drink. When it was clear they were the only two present, she sat down and moved the piping hot cuppa, not wanting to assume that it was for her.

After all, why on Earth would he go through the trouble to buy her anything? No, she concluded that Charles was the most likely culprit.

"One cream, one sugar - not sure how you take it," Draco announced, sipping on his own as Hermione turned to stare at him as though he had just called her a cow.

Her heart quickened and she plucked the cup off the table, turning it in her hands unsurely. She instantly recognized the brand, only having treated herself to their beverages once or twice a year considering each cup cost nearly eight quid.

What surprised her though was that it was a Muggle cafe just down the street from Whitehall. Her own outlandish preconceptions about Malfoy making themselves apparent as she half expected the man to have boycotted anything that hadn't been handled by a Pureblood.

She banished the thoughts, remembering their agreement to wipe the slate clean.

That included an end to any more preconceptions.

"Thank you," she said, with a sincere smile, gingerly popping the plastic tab off to take a small sip. It was rich, smooth and just the right amount of sweet with a hint of praline.

Hermione savoured the wonderful flavour, and instantly went back for a second draught, clucking as she burnt her tongue.

"I noticed you didn't have your usual cup glued to your hand this morning," Malfoy elaborated, as though his kind gesture had to have a solid motive.

"Yes, well that was because I was too busy accosting you," she replied smugly, taking another sip of her coffee.

She saw out of the corner of her eye Malfoy's lips turn into a slight smile.

Silence shrouded the room once more, making Hermione anxious for some strange reason. If this were any other co-worker, would she try and make small talk? Should she make an effort to socialize with the man who always seemed so cold and distant?

She took another swig of her beverage.

"This is ridiculously good," she stated, brandishing the cup towards Draco.

His eyes remained glued to the parchment he held in his hand.

"Probably the best cafe in Britain if you ask me," he responded, seeming almost disinterested.

The sound of the clock ticked loudly as silence ensued once more.

He clearly wasn't in the mood for conversation, and all things considered, things were going fairly well so far. She didn't want to ruin it by being over zealous, so she grabbed her quill and began reading the file she had so gratefully discarded at the start of her lunch hour.

_Section forty two of the Orpington Act decrees that any witch or wizard of non magical parentage shall be subject to the forfeiture of all magical assets upon incarceration, including but not limited to…_

For the second time since becoming colleagues, Hermione noticed Draco lean over, bringing with him a waft of his cologne.

He had changed it today, it wasn't his usual rose petals and bergamot, instead she inhaled the medicinal scent of saffron which played wonderfully upon subtle hints of cinnamon, grapefruit and crushed tabaco.

It was spicy yet somehow smooth at the same time; soft and sensual yet masculine.

She felt his cool skin brushing against hers as he snatched the quill from her hand that she had absentmindedly begun tapping on the table.

The young woman scoffed loudly, glaring over at him as he pocketed her stationary supplies without a word.

Granger pursed her lips at him, trying not to become annoyed with the arrogant boy she had spent so many years hating, but after all this time, the reaction was almost a default.

Instead of becoming angry, Hermione smirked and began rummaging in her bag, her fingers closing around the thick bundle of inkless quills she carried everywhere. She plucked one out and tried to ignore the look of dismay on Draco's face when she began tapping it on the table once more.

"I'm assuming you have an endless supply of those?" He asked, clearly unimpressed as she smiled smugly at him.

"You would be correct," she declared triumphantly as he shook his head at her, his own smile resurfacing as he turned his attention back to the parchment in his hands.

"Any plans for the weekend?" She asked colloquially.

Draco dropped the paper again, seeming almost annoyed by the interruption until he saw her turn towards him in the recliner, casually swirling the cup of coffee in one hand.

He stared at her for a minute, his expression unreadable and Hermione was sure that he was wondering if she were bombarding him with questions on purpose to irritate him or if she was genuinely trying to get to know him.

She kept her face straight, sipping the hot liquid again as she waited for him to respond.

"I'm taking Scorpious to a panto," he revealed. His expression seemed hesitant as though the tiny piece of intelligence he had divulged was revealing far too much personal information.

She realized suddenly that he must not be accustomed to innocent banter, his entire childhood had been spent playing a character to appease his father, the Dark Lord and the rest of Slytherin House who expected him to live up to his name. He'd never had any real friends - each companionship built upon a dozen hidden agendas and ulterior motives. The only person she assumed he _had _let in was Astoria.

Hermione felt a pang of pity shoot through her, the thought of living such a closed off life seemed utterly pointless.

The witch could tell he was fidgeting, wondering if he should bother returning the question or continue with his work in silence.

His former schoolmate decided to spare him and smiled politely, turning her chair back to the table and pulling the file into her hands once again.

She could almost feel the breath of relief which escaped his lips as the two continued working, shrouded in a comfortable blanket of quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

She had decided to spare him from idle chit chat - for today.

As they said goodbye, Hermione grinned at the man who hesitantly volleyed with a tight lipped smile of his own.

"Have fun at the panto, and take notes because I'll be asking you all about it on Monday," the young woman assured, watching as the colour drained from Draco's already pale face.

She nearly laughed at his horror, but decided to wave at him innocently as she turned and walked out the door, her spirits high as she headed home with a new project of her own; to get Draco Malfoy to open up


	7. Chapter 7

**A huge thanks to all of you who have taken the time to leave your wonderful reviews. It really is what keeps me going. And to those of you who haven't commented yet, please do! Love you all xoxo**

* * *

"You did what?" Ronald asked in disbelief, blue eyes unblinking as he stared at her as though she'd just confessed to murder.

His wife sighed, her heart in her throat as she prepared for the onslaught of anger.

"Draco and I agreed to put our pasts aside and move on," Hermione reiterated slowly, carefully drawing out her words as though explaining to a child.

"Put aside? Bloody hell woman, he bullied you for years!" Her husband cried in pure outrage, sitting up in bed.

"Yes, Ronald, I'm well aware of that," she replied dryly, fiddling with the thin bed sheets as she willed herself not to lose her cool.

"Then why let that tosser off the hook?"

Silence.

Before they'd had children, the mother of two could argue circles around Ron.

But now, all her eloquence and cleverness dried up and the girl became a blubbering mess of incoherent rambling whenever she and her husband bickered.

Now, her mind seemed to be little more than an emotional, hormonal battlefield.

She lost all sight of her argument when the red-head lost his temper, resulting in Ron storming off, frustrated at her inability to explain her concerns while Hermione sat in a pool of tears, cursing the man for every time he made her cry.

But not this time. No, she refused to fall down that rabbit hole.

_One word at a time, and don't you dare start crying._

"I- we…"

Hermione took a deep, shaking breath as she readdressed her partner who was already glaring at her as though she'd lost her mind.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my time at work being miserable. We've all changed-"

"Don't you dare say he's anything more than the sniveling ferret he used to be," Ron spat viciously. "You think just because daddy and some slag he was shagging died, that he's any better now?"

"Ronald!" The young witch nearly shouted his name by way of warning, not caring that she might wake Rose and Hugo in the next room. She regarded him in disgusted outrage, what he'd said about the late Astoria Malfoy struck a nerve with her and the Gryffindor's timidity dissolved into anger. It was one thing to despise Draco for all that he'd done, but to defame his wife when she had done nothing save give birth to their son and die, was deplorable.

The couple glowered at each other, her husband slightly surprised by the ferocity of her tone. He had surely been expecting her to dissolve into a puddle of hysterical tears three sentences ago.

"You're being a prat," she stated.

"And you're being a naive idiot. If you're thick enough to fall for the tortured widower act, then good for Malfoy - he clearly knows his audience."

Ron's words were like a knife, twisting and ripping as he continued.

"Hell, why don't we send Rodolphus an owl - invite him over for dinner? Considering we're forgiving Death Eaters…"

His wife felt the hot, swirling ball of emotion crawl it's way up her chest and into her throat like a trail of fiendfyre.

"You know that's not the same," she hissed through gritted teeth, her arm burning at the mere mention of the Lestranges. How dare he even bring up the husband of that psychopath?

"No, I don't know. To me they're equally as despicable, and if you honestly can't see that, then I've been giving your intellect too much credit."

The modicum of inner peace she had gained on Friday was all but destroyed by her spouse's words, and despite her desperate attempts to hold back the tears which threatened to spill over the brim of her lashes, she felt a single drop break free and roll down her cheek.

Weasley shook his head as he turned over with a tremendous scoff, ripping the blankets off his wife.

"Honestly, Mione - you're like a child. We can't have one bloody conversation without you bursting into tears."

As though he had summoned them, the rest of the woman's sadness trickled over, staining her cheeks with the salty drops as they ran down unchecked.

She wanted to hit him, to hex him into oblivion with every fibre of her being as she glared at his scarred and freckled back. How could he claim to love her when he could be so flippant and cruel to the person he had vowed to cherish and uphold during their wedding vows?

"You spoil _everything_ Ronald," she stated quietly, swallowing back the bitter mouthful of resentment.

"Yeah, so you've said."

Hermione sat numbly on their bed, her head throbbing and eyes stinging as she let herself drown in the familiar sadness that had become so common, it almost felt good.

* * *

The young witch woke early the next morning, prying Rose from under her armpit again before tiptoeing out of bed.

Merlin, she didn't even remember the toddler climbing in with them last night.

Not wanting to deal with her brat of a husband after his harsh words the night prior, she quietly got dressed and examined her swollen eyes in the dim light of the bathroom.

She looked like a wreck, a sign might as well have been stapled to her forehead announcing that she'd cried herself to sleep. Her head felt fuzzy and the familiar throbbing behind her eyes and at the back of her neck told her a migraine was looming.

The woman rifled through their stock of brightly coloured vials and beakers until she found the pain potion before chugging it down in one quick gulp. She grimaced, smacking her lips at the bitter aftertaste but sighed in relief as the tightness behind her skull immediately let up.

She skipped breakfast, deciding to treat herself when she got to the Ministry.

The wife of Ronald Weasley took one long look at the toys that were haphazardly strewn across the floor, the grubby hand prints left on the couch, the dirty dishes in the sink and the pictures of her family's smiling faces that hung upon the walls.

Ron, Hugo, Rose...they all were grinning from ear to ear.

And then there was Hermione.

Tight lipped and smiling as though she were somewhere else. She saw in the pictures her own secret sadness, knowing that only hours before the photo was taken she had suffered at least two mental breakdowns as her son vomited all over his new jumper and Rose threw an ear shattering tantrum at having to get dressed.

She noticed her children were clutched firmly to her chest and that there was a gap between herself and her husband.

The witch smiled ruefully; how fitting.

She missed her family terribly while away at work, but today as she looked around the room, she felt a small bubble of relief fill up inside her.

Today she _wanted _to be away.

* * *

The only child of the Granger's walked hesitantly towards the cafe, clutching her winter coat around her waist tightly as the harsh wind whipped about, turning her already messy hair into a full blown disaster.

She really enjoyed the drink Draco had given her on Friday, but for some reason as she looked up at the bright store and shining windows that glimmered with multi colored Christmas lights, all she could see was Ronald's scowling face.

_Buying __**his **__brand now? _

She could almost hear the ginger's voice, but to hell with it.

The ministry employee marched defiantly towards the door, yanking it open as she stepped foot into the cozy cafe, warm air enveloping her in a toasty hug as she smiled at the smell of fresh pastries and brewing coffee that filled the air.

There was quite a que but she didn't mind, and shoved her hands into her pockets as she read the menu above the register.

"Granger?"

Hermione whipped around to see none other than Draco Malfoy entering in from the wind dressed head to toe in jet black and covered with a fair dusting of white snow. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, his icy grey eyes shining almost hypnotically in the soft light as he screwed his face up in surprise at the sight of her.

She abruptly felt like a homeless wreck in the man's wake and began smoothing out her hair in a futile attempt to make herself feel somewhat presentable.

Not that she cared what he thought of her appearance...right?

The witch noticed how he had certainly caught the attention of a few other women waiting in line, a couple of them flashing bright smiles in his direction which he altogether ignored.

Hermione cleared her throat, waving at the man as he approached her.

"Thought I'd treat myself, I've been craving another drink from here since I finished the one on Friday," the woman admitted sheepishly, looking around the restaurant.

Draco smiled slightly at her confession.

"Don't worry Granger, I won't tell anyone you frequent the same cafe as big, bad Malfoy."

Hermione looked up at him in confusion, examining his stoic features as he frowned at the menu as though it had somehow greatly disappointed him.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

His crystalline irises found her searching gaze and Hermione tried to ignore the pang of hurt when he rolled them at her.

"I know you think I'm scum, Granger," he said bluntly.

His former schoolmate's eyes widened in bewilderment.

Where was this coming from? She thought they had resolved their issues!

"How dare you," she hissed, trying to keep her tone down as a few of the over eager girls in line turned their heads, clearly having been eavesdropping. "I do not think you are scum - I mean, I may have while we were at Hogwarts, but can you blame me? You were egregious!"

Draco sighed tremendously, his nostrils flaring as he turned on his heel and left the cozy store, leaving his nonplussed coworker blushing harshly in the dim light.

She shook her head after him angrily - that twit! She had forgiven him, what more did he want?!

Besides, it wasn't as though she had done anything terrible to Draco before...aside from punching him in the face, cursing him a few times, making fun of him and thinking he was..._scum._

The realization hit her like a sack of bricks.

What if he was just as hurt by their behaviour toward one another at school?

She had always - _always - _seen him as beneath her, just in the same way he'd viewed her. Didn't that make her equally as awful?

Did Draco, the cold and detached boy she had once known, actually have feelings? More so, feelings that had been hurt by her?

She had never once given thought to what he might have endured - he was always the villain.

Clucking reproachfully, Hermione finally figured out what needed to be done.

Their terms of forgiveness had been completely one sided. She needed to apologize for her own prejudices and elitist attitude while they were at school - and even after.

She and her friends had seen it as retaliation in those days, but in all honesty Harry, Ron, Ginny and herself had made life miserable for Draco too.

Hermione ran her hands through her hair, suddenly feeling awful. She turned back, hoping he wasn't too far gone and bolted out the door after him.

The blistering wind hit her like a truck of ice and Hermione tightened the thin coat around herself in a futile attempt to shield her body from the cold. She stood, squinting her eyes and looking ahead, hoping to catch sight of him.

After a few seconds she spotted his sleek form and clip-clopped towards him awkwardly, trying desperately not to fall flat on her face amidst the treacherous patches of ice.

"Malfoy!"

She saw him stop in his tracks, turning around unsurely as he spotted her chasing after him. She thought he was going to roll his eyes and continue on his way, but he simply watched her in a dissatisfied manner until they were a foot apart.

"You know I'm sorry too, right?" She said breathlessly, having to yell a bit louder than she had hoped due to the howling wind.

The wizard looked at her skeptically.

"Harry, Ron, all of us - we tormented you just as much. I was just as much of a brat, only I had my head shoved so far up my own arse that I didn't realize it till just now."

Draco looked at her as though he suspected hidden cameras to suddenly come out of the shadows, for her to laugh in his face and tell him she was obviously joking. But as Hermione stood, quiet and shivering in the cold winter morning waiting for him to reply, he finally seemed to accept her words. He was still reading her expression when she noticed his steely eyes register the red rimmed puffiness of her own.

He frowned, perhaps wondering if he had been the cause of her tears and abruptly self conscious, the young woman ducked her head.

"Uh, I hope you know that I don't think you're scum. We were both scared, confused kids who were trying to navigate through a childhood that we were ultimately robbed of, and if you're able to forgive _me_ for being completely insufferable, and for punching you in the face,"-she grimaced, remembering the feeling of his nose crack under her fist-"then I truly do hope we can move on and get to know each other, without the fear, stigma and prejudice."

"Yeah, I bet Weasley would love that."

"I don't give a damn about what that petulant child thinks," she responded viciously, her anger towards Ronald spilling over into her words. The Slytherin raised his eyebrows quizzically at her, and then his face fell as he seemed to connect the dots between her puffy eyes and hostile tone toward the red-head.

Malfoy stood, scrutinizing her in the light of the rising sun as she clutched her arms around herself tighter, and after another solid minute of silence, she prepared for what looked like a rebuff.

"You need a new jacket," Draco answered, turning to head back in the direction they'd come from.

Hermione blinked after him stupidly.

"What?"

After a few steps the man stopped, looking back at her over his shoulder.

"Come on, Granger."

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at him, not particularly fond of the way he seemed so at ease ordering her around, but she was trying to play nice and stumbled ungracefully toward the tall wizard.

"Where are we going?"

Instead of answering, the son of Lucius slipped out of his thick jacket, revealing yet another expensive suit - black blazer with jet black slacks, but today he had broken up his usual curtain of onyx with a blood red button down. She suddenly noticed how much the colour softened his complexion - he looked much more like a boyish charmer than a man in perpetual mourning. Studying him now with his shining blonde hair, stoney grey eyes, proud pointed nose and strong square jaw, she perhaps understood why all those women in the cafe were ogling him.

Her pulse quickened and she froze as Draco unexpectedly stepped forward, shrouding her in a blanket of his scent as he reached around her shoulders and carefully draped the heavy woolen coat over her shivering frame.

Hermione nearly died of shock at the chivalrous gesture, unable to formulate the right words in order to thank him as he stood back, assessing his work with a frown before stepping in once more to adjust the jacket.

He set it atop of her head like a thick, fuzzy cowl, swinging one sleeve around her right shoulder and smirking at the way she seemed to drown in his clothing.

She instantly felt better, the luxuriously soft lining blocking out every last trace of cold as he stood seemingly unperturbed in his work clothes, small flecks of white snow melting into tiny, shining drops of moisture onto his face and hair until he looked like a glittering photograph in the light of the morning Sun.

"T-thank you," she said, clutching the jacket around her tightly, inhaling the smell of his new cologne today - leather, patchouli, white wood and mint.

A voice in the back of her mind wondering why she was keeping track of his cologne at all before she drowned it.

"Let's get you some tea, Granger."


	8. Chapter 8

**Divergence from Canon: All of the Weasley and Potter children in this fic are born before their canonical birthdates. Just a heads up. Please remember to leave your lovely reviews!**

* * *

The two colleagues looked around nervously, one on edge in case her husband happened to barge in and catch her out for tea with their childhood nemesis, and the other because it had been a decade since he'd genuinely decided to "get to know" another human being.

They were both awkward and silent for a few minutes, sitting across from each other at a small table at the same cafe they'd exited earlier.

Hermione cleared her throat, tired of the stares they were receiving from a few of the women who recognized Draco from before.

"So, how was the panto?"

Draco leaned back in the tiny chair, the metal frame creaking under his weight as he eyed his polystyrene cup, slowly bringing it to his lips and setting it back down. He was clearly buying time before he had to answer.

"It was alright - Scorpious enjoyed himself."

"And you didn't?" Hermione inquired, taking a sip of her coffee.

Draco smirked.

"Watching grown men prance around in tights isn't exactly my idea of a good time," he admitted, his eyes still glued to his cup as though it had the secret to eternal youth scrawled upon the back.

"Sounds like a great night to me," the woman retorted cheekily, smiling as Malfoy finally met her gaze.

He still seemed hesitant to open up, and she could tell that their innocent banter was more than uncomfortable for him, but she didn't care - she was determined to crack the man like a good puzzle.

All she needed was a little time and patience.

"How was your weekend?" He asked unsurely, eyes darting back to the cup.

The witch sighed, the fight between Ronald and herself coming to mind, but Draco didn't need to know that.

"Uh, it was alright," she echoed lamely, shrugging her shoulders at the thought of her utterly mundane break that had ended in a fit of crying.

The reminder of her spilled tears drew her own eyes downward as she felt Draco look up, studying her features. She blushed under his scrutiny and tried rubbing her hand over her forehead in a futile attempt to cover the telltale evidence of sadness from her face.

The former schoolmates fidgeted in their chairs, both unsure of what to say.

"I'll be right back," Malfoy declared, getting up from his chair to head towards the loo.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing her eyes vigorously as though the stimulation would help settle the puffiness.

"Excuse me?"

The witch looked up to see a stunning young woman before her, jet black hair and crystal blue eyes shining brightly in the light as she approached Hermione timidly.

"Yes?"

The stranger wrung her perfectly manicured hands nervously as she flashed a set of brilliant white teeth at the humdrum mother of two who'd barely had time to comb her hair this morning.

"I don't mean to be rude, but are you two together?" She asked, gesturing toward the direction Draco had gone.

The witch's heart did a strange flip flop and she vehemently shook her head, unable to keep the blush from registering on her cheeks.

"Oh no, no no I'm married - we're just friends," she explained hastily, still blushing for some reason.

"Brilliant, would you mind giving him my card?" She inquired hopefully, pulling out a thick piece of cardstock with fancy lettering on the back.

"Of course," Hermione agreed, trying not to grin at the overly amorous Muggle who had set her sights on Malfoy as she took the business card from the woman. The raven haired beauty thanked the brunette and clipped off to the table behind them.

Granger smiled, twirling the card in her fingers as she thought of a way to take the mickey out of him upon his arrival. Another minute passed before she found Malfoy - all brooding seriousness and haughty disdain as he made his way back.

His steely eyes spotted his colleague's strange smirk from a few feet away and he slowed down, looking around himself unsurely.

"What?"

"You've got yourself an admirer," Hermione divulged, taking a strategic sip of her drink as she eyed him playfully over the lid of her cup.

Draco's brows knit together as he slowly took a seat once more, spotting the white card in the centre of the table.

A sudden thought burst in her head like a bubble as she realized perhaps he wasn't ready to have admirers yet. Astoria had passed away two years ago - who knew if that was enough time for him to get over the ordeal?

Granger abruptly felt like stuffing her foot in her mouth, and tried backpedaling to salvage the situation.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't even think that maybe this was inappropriate - I understand if you're not interested in other women after your wife…" She trailed off lamely, unable to bring herself to say the words in case she upset Draco.

"Died?" Malfoy finished, piquing a pale eyebrow at her.

Hermione nodded, hoping she hadn't trodden on their newly patched friendship by disregarding the memory of his deceased lover.

Draco smiled sadly.

"I've had quite some time to deal with Astoria passing - even before she died. She told me the truth about her condition the day we met and ever since then, it was something we both knew was going to happen," he admitted, his eyes staring off into the distance as he remembered the woman he'd first fallen in love with. "We just had to try and squeeze in as much life as we could in the time we were given - and it was wonderful."

Hermione smiled at his eloquence, her eyes welling with moisture at the tragedy of Draco and Astoria as she swiped the business card off the table.

Malfoy noticed her movement and cocked an eyebrow at her quizzically.

"I never said I wasn't interested in who left me that," he teased, snatching the Muggle's information in a blatant attempt to lighten the mood.

His colleague smiled, trying to be nonchalant as she pointed at the beautiful stranger who was chatting away her friend without a care in the world.

Malfoy turned his head slightly to find the woman in question and for some reason, the witch held her breath as she waited for his reaction.

"She's not my type," Draco stated without a trace of kindness, taking a huge sip of his drink.

His peer was slightly surprised by the response.

"What exactly _is_ your type then, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked, genuinely curious to hear his answer.

Draco took another huge swig of his tea before standing up.

For an infinitesimal second, Hermione was certain his grey eyes looked her over once, not in judgement or distaste, but with a strange spark that she'd never seen before.

But she blinked and it was gone, Draco looking down at the cup in his hands again, swirling the beverage as he thought.

"Well, for starters, I fancy brunettes," he revealed, taking one last draught before heading towards the exit and tossing the container into the rubbish. "We better head back."

Hermione felt like she was two steps too slow for this man, and huffed as she pulled herself from the table with her own full cup of coffee.

She was about to yank the handle open when Draco put an arm across the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" The wizard asked, staring at his jacket that was tucked securely beneath her arms.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, here," she said, blushing as she relinquished the soft coat.

Draco screwed his face up at her.

"No, Granger - put it on," he instructed as though she were thick.

Hermione paused, not sure she understood that he was offering his jacket to her again. If she were here with Ronald, he wouldn't have given up his coat in the first place - rather he'd have sniggered, telling his wife it was her fault for not dressing warm enough.

Malfoy shook his head, letting go of the door to snatch the item of clothing from her hands before he wrapped it around her head and shoulders once more.

"No, really I'm fine I don't need it," the headstrong witch protested, trying to decloak herself as Draco held the jacket around her tightly, trying his hardest not to laugh at her feeble attempts to break free.

"Drop it, Granger or I'll throw you over my shoulder," he threatened, attracting odd looks from a few people as they entered the cafe.

Hermione huffed, blushing and thoroughly annoyed as she finally gave up, glaring at her coworker in contempt as she blew a rogue strand of hair out of her eyes.

Malfoy looked at her for a moment, his eyes raking over her disheveled appearance before he laughed.

She glowered at him, their gazes locking for what seemed like the first time today.

She stared at him, studying his face like a book - he seemed so _normal_ when he smiled. Handsome, even.

Standing this close to him, she could see that he definitely had some blue in those steely irises, his thin facial hair had flecks of brown and there were a few silvery white scars that marked his smooth skin - a part of her wondering how he'd gotten them. And there, on the bridge of his nose, was a slight bump where she had struck him those many years ago.

She frowned, wondering why he hadn't healed it properly, it was such a simple spell - she could probably even fix it now. The young woman reached up without thinking and gently traced her finger over the area until she realized that he had altogether stopped breathing and was staring at her strangely. It instantly dawned on her what she was doing and stepped back as though he'd caught fire, her own face burning at how inappropriate the gesture had been.

"Sorry," she apologized, ducking her head as she felt a stray curl fall into her eyes. "I just noticed that your nose-"

She glanced up sheepishly, expecting the man to be upset or confused at her lack of manners, but Draco's expression was something altogether different and it dried the words up in her throat.

It was brooding - as usual - but there was also a strange softness in his expression along with an unmistakable fire in his eyes that froze her to the spot as he took a small step forward.

Hesitant and unsure, as though she were a wounded animal that might attack, Malfoy extended his hand toward her face. Hermione fought the urge to recoil and stood still as a statue, too confused and slightly too scared to move as she watched him warily.

He carefully plucked the snaking tendril of hair that sat across her brow and oh so slowly twirled it in his fingers before stretching it taught, pulling hard enough that she fidgeted uneasily.

The movement drew his blue-grey eyes to her own, carefully assessing the way she stared at him like a deer caught in headlights before he gingerly tucked the strand behind her ear, his touch leaving a strange prickling on her skin as she turned away from his touch.

The wizard frowned, rubbing his fingers together as though he too could feel the stinging sensation, and without warning turned and left the cafe without her.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her mind swirling with a storm of questions as she wondered what on Earth had just happened.

After a few more seconds of nonplussed staring, Granger recollected herself and turned to leave, catching the eye of the pretty Muggle who had approached her before.

The inky haired haired woman stared at her with blatant distaste, surely wondering exactly what kind of friends they claimed to be.

The witch blushed furiously, hugging her drink and tightening Draco's jacket around her once more as she left the shop, wondering if their inappropriate display was going to make the day even more awkward than usual.

* * *

She arrived at the main meeting room which was still utterly empty, save for the scowling wizard who sat forlornly in the corner by himself.

She knew he was upset, rather he was expecting _her_ to be upset at his somewhat strange behaviour. But Hermione really didn't care - it might have been unexpected and not entirely welcome but it's not as though he had kissed her, and in all fairness _she _had broken the physical barrier first.

She really felt like they had made progress this morning and was far too determined to let that slip away just because he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You walk too fast," the witch announced, trying to be cool as she meandered casually toward Malfoy, draping the jacket behind his seat before pulling out a chair beside the Slytherin who glowered at her, scooting away indelicately.

She tried being smooth, to slide into her chair gracefully and elegantly and of course that meant she ended up catching her foot on the leg rest before crashing down into the seat like a messy drunkard.

Draco looked over at her in disapproval.

The Gryffindor ignored his scrutiny, trying to pull herself up from the awkward position while spilling a fair amount of her coffee onto the table in the process.

"Are you on drugs, Granger?"

She couldn't help but giggle at her own clumsiness, shaking her head at the failed attempt at nonchalance as she stood up, brushing herself off before using her wand to clear up the puddle on the table.

"Yes actually, would you like some?" She quipped sarcastically, carefully taking her seat beside the man once more.

Draco shook his head again, a smile forcing itself onto his face even though she could tell he was trying his best to quash it.

Hermione cheered internally at her small victory, relieved that they seemed to be on good terms again as she reached for what was left of her drink, savouring the smooth texture and enjoying the warmth as she stole another glance at her co-worker.

He sat with his arms crossed, rocking back and forth in the chair slightly, his blonde hair askew.

It irked Hermione that he returned from the escapade with wet hair that made him look like a runway model who had freshly stepped out of the pages of a magazine and that she somehow looked like a half drowned cat.

She combed her fingers through her freezing, damp hair, as she struggled to find the right words to fill the silence.

Before she could open her mouth to speak, the door creaked open and the tall form of Tahiri entered.

"Whoa, you swim here Granger?" Zahra asked indelicately, stopping in her tracks as she examined the frumpled witch across the room.

Hermione pursed her lips in distaste, first at the other woman, then at Draco who snorted before coughing into his fist, clearly trying to mask his laughter.

"Excuse me, it appears I need to make a trip to the bathroom," she announced, getting up to head towards the lavatory.

Once inside, Mrs. Granger examined herself in the mirror - her nose and cheeks were still red from the cold, her hair was a frizzy, damp disaster and her blazer was wrinklier than an elephant's arse but at least the telltale signs of crying had disappeared from her eyes.

Hermione sighed, running her hand through her hair again as she pulled out her wand to use a drying spell on the tangled mess of curls and frizz. Finally satisfied with the end result, the woman rummaged through the small wallet she had stuffed into her pocket this morning and retrieved an extremely old, faded stick of rouge.

She popped the cap off and frowned at the gunk stuck to the waxy surface, choosing to wipe it off with a paper towel before she applied the faintest trace of it to her lips and cheeks.

She ditched the blazer and settled for the lavender blouse she'd had on underneath - much more casual.

The witch stood back to examine herself in the bright lights once more, somewhat pleased as she tapped her chin with her wand a few times pondering…

"_Crinus Undosus,_" she said, watching as her hair began smoothing out into beautiful, sleek waves until she looked like a completely different woman than the sopping wet tramp who had walked in here a few minutes ago.

She frowned suddenly, deciding it was too much and pulled her hair back into a bun.

Who was she trying to impress?

_I don't need to be impressing anyone, I just want to look nice._

Deep, deep down in the dregs of her consciousness a voice told her that was a lie. She _did _want to impress someone, and was far too scared and confused to admit it.

The only person's attention she should have been vying for was sitting at home with her children.

The sudden wave of guilt that washed over the woman at the thought of her husband nearly made her feel ill and she abruptly clawed at the rouge on her lips and cheeks, remnants of the colour still clinging to her skin despite her efforts.

Was she so miserable in her marriage that the slightest amount of attention from another man meant she was ready to jump into a stranger's arms?

No.

Maybe.

Hermione planted her face into her hands, ashamed of what she was even thinking. She was just upset with Ronald, that was all. She was upset and was using Malfoy as a means to escape her reality. Ron was comfortable, predictable, constant - Draco was new, exciting, and challenging.

It's just a phase, she coached herself as she tied her hair up in a dutiful chignon, tucking her jacket under her arm before leaving the bathroom.

Granger made her way to the meeting room once more and hated the way her stomach lurched as she opened the doors, instantly meeting the icy grey eyes of Malfoy who gave her a quick once over before averting his gaze again.

McCrae and Charles had also arrived at some point during her absence and turned around to greet her excitedly.

The Gryffindor noticed a gleaming scarlet sack with a golden drawstring in the middle of the table as she returned to her seat beside Draco.

"Morning everyone! As you well know, this is our second last week of work before Christmas break and that can only mean one thing,"—Charles did a small drumroll with his fingers as Tilda showcased the satchel on the table—"Secret Santa!"

Tahiri groaned loudly while the rest of the room chuckled at her lack of holiday spirit.

Hermione was grinning ear to ear, she adored Christmas gift exchanges and the cheer they seemed to infuse but as she looked over to Draco and rolled her eyes, it was clear he did not share her sentiment. He honestly looked bored, as though he were sitting through a history class with their old Professor Binns.

"Each of us will draw a name and buy a _small _token of appreciation for said person. I don't want anyone spending over 5 Galleons on gifts - exchange on Friday!" McCrae barked the instructions as though commanding a group of soldiers entering a war zone rather than a bureaucrat explaining a holiday ice breaker to a group of glorified paper pushers.

"Charles, you first."

The young wizard wasted no time and plunged his hand into the satchel, retrieving a single slip of parchment. He peeked at it excitedly before tucking it into his shirt pocket.

"Zahra, you next."

The Kenyan witch scowled, but reached over and plucked a name from the bag, staring at it disinteredly before tossing it in the bin.

"Lovely sentiment, Tahiri. Granger, your turn."

Hermione's stomach did a strange leap as she stretched her arm over and pulled a piece of paper out.

_Malfoy _

She wasn't quite sure if the butterflies in her stomach were because she was mortified of having to buy a gift for the emotionally closed off man, or if they were from the excitement of having to do just that.

Either way, the woman tucked the slip of paper into her pants pocket and returned her gaze to the red sack on the table, waiting for Malfoy to take his turn.

McCrae tossed the bag over to Draco who snatched it with ease, plucking out the tiny piece of stationary that Hermione stole a glance at.

_Charles_

A small part of her was let down by the name she had accidentally seen on his slip, but she chided herself and returned her attention to the blonde.

He frowned at the name, seeming just as disappointed, but tucked it into his breast pocket all the same.

"And since I'm the boss, I'll be buying all of you sods lunch on Friday instead of participating."

"Do we get to pick where?" Charles asked excitedly as his superior eyed him shrewdly.

"We'll see how much it costs, i'm not made of money," Tilda explained, turning around to clap her hands together as she changed the subject. "So, what are everyone's plans for Christmas?"

Charles immediately began spewing his agenda for the holiday and Draco made a move to get up and leave, no doubt trying to escape the show-and-tell of personal stories, but Granger grabbed his hand with a firm grip, ignoring the strange jolt of electricity that seemed to shoot through her heart at the feel of his skin.

Malfoy froze as his new acquaintance narrowed her eyes at him, wordlessly letting him know that she was aware of what he was trying to do and effectively having none of it. He pursed his lips at her, a faint blush creeping its way into his pale complexion at their prolonged physical contact and the strange hum which seemed to emanate from their magic when they touched.

The Slytherin scowled before retaking his seat as Hermione let go of his hand, trying to ignore the strange tingle that engulfed her arm while making a mental note to research anything on physiological and magical disturbances as soon as she could find her way to the library.

McCrae noticed their odd interaction but said nothing, continuing the rounds.

"Tahiri, what about you?"

Zahra shrugged, her bright orange blazer bouncing at the exaggerated gesture.

"I don't celebrate Christmas, but my girlfriend insists on exchanging gifts every damn year..."

Everyone waited for her to finish the story, but by the way the Kenyan witch crossed her arms it seemed as though that was all they were getting.

Hermione smirked; Tahiri was nearly as closed off as Draco.

"We need to give you an award for story telling, Zahra," Tilda jeered, her eyes settling on Granger.

"Um, we're spending the holidays at my in-laws this year...again," she revealed, her head spinning at the thought of being crammed into the Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys for two straight weeks.

It had been boisterous enough before they'd all had children, but now it was an absolute madhouse with twelve adults and nine screeching kids all under the age of five.

"Arthur's family, eh? My god, what's that like?" McCrae asked, eliciting a small laugh from the witch she was questioning.

"It's utterly…mad," Hermione admitted. Just the thought of all the screaming and yelling and crying was making her head hurt. "Last year, I had to barricade myself in the loo just to get a moment of quiet - and it doesn't help that George, for whatever godforsaken reason, insists on setting fireworks off _inside _the damn house, and Charlie!"-her voice was nearly hysterical and she could feel her hair sparking with magic as her anxiety got the best of her, but the words kept spewing from her mouth like a stream of vomit-"What kind of grown man thinks it's a good idea to bring a _dragon - _an actual, fire breathing dragon - to a house full of toddlers? Dom nearly killed himself! And then there's Molly, I love her to bits, but I don't need a minced pie stuffed down my gob at every turn!"

"Whoa whoa, Granger - take it up with a therapist," Tilda cautioned, staring worriedly at her employee who took a deep breath, untying her hair before combing her fingers through it and tucking a few runaway strands behind her ears which had turned an alarming shade of red.

Hermione surprised herself at the intense annoyance with which she felt towards her husband's family. Not that she didn't love them dearly, but she had grown up as an only child and holidays had always been peaceful, relaxing and enjoyable - just herself, mom and dad. She longed for a Christmas where it was _just _her, Ron and the kids, but ever since she'd married the youngest Weasley boy, it was like she had joined a travelling circus.

She loved George, Angelina, Ginny, Harry, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Molly and Arthur but she needed a break once in a while. Considering it had been three straight years since they'd spent the holidays with Mr. And Mrs. Granger, Hermione felt it was only natural that she was fed up with the Weasleys and their unorthodox traditions. They always visited the Granger's the week after Chritsmas, but it was never the same.

Everytime she suggested going to her parents for the 24th and 25th, Ronald whinged and sulked and moped about - "it's like being at a funeral, Mione. Everyone takes turns talking, no one's setting anything on fire, and no offence, but your mum's cooking is awful."

So every year, the witch sacrificed the time with her parents and put her husband's needs and wants before her own because that's what she was _supposed _to do...wasn't it?

The young woman was so caught up in her own thoughts that she nearly missed Draco speaking.

"Just my son and I," he summarized bluntly.

"Narcissa not coming down this year?" Tilda asked, rubbing her chin with the back of a folder she held in her hands.

"Only for Christmas Eve and Day, then she's back to Scotland," Malfoy informed, fidgeting with each piece of information that was reluctantly extracted from him.

"Right, I reckon she's swamped with the charity," McCrae mused as Draco nodded tersely.

Hermione's eyes flicked to the blonde like a whip; what charity? She hadn't known of anything of the sort. But then again why would she? She was so caught up in her own little world of late night breastfeeds, nappy changes and postpartum depression for the past few years, she wouldn't be surprised if someone told her that the sky was now purple.

"What about you, Tilda?" Charles prodded expectantly.

"What I do in my free time is no one else's business," she said, smiling wickedly as the room erupted in a chorus of outrage.

Hermione scoffed incredulously, turning to exchange glances with Charles who seemed equally as affronted - Malfoy and Tahiri more annoyed that they'd been tricked into relaying information about their personal lives.

She was working with a group of sociopaths.

"Down to business!" McCrae ordered, as everyone fell silent. "What kind of numbers are we looking at in terms of revisions?"

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, the team was dismissed and as Hermione held the door open for her workmate, she was surprised to see him still sitting in a chair with an anxious look on his face.

"Coming?" She asked, slightly confused.

"In a minute."

The woman gave him a small smile and disappeared from view, assuming that he needed a minute to decompress.

But as she slipped out of view and the door closed behind her, Draco went straight for the rubbish bin and pushed aside the refuse until he found the crumpled piece of paper Tahiri had tossed away so carelessly.

The man carefully retrieved the slip and turned it over in his hands, the faintest trace of a smile settling over his lips as he stared at the name scrawled across the front;

_Granger_


	9. Chapter 9

The young woman took a deep breath, stepping through the fireplace and into her living room as she braced herself for what she thought would be a silent evening of exaggerated eyerolls and intense glowering.

So when Hermione caught sight of the small bouquet of daffodils on the coffee table, her heart sank into her toes.

The witch slowly made her way towards the flowers, smoothing out the purple cellophane in which they were delicately wrapped - Ron hadn't conjured these using his wand, he had made the effort to go out and buy them.

Hermione wanted so badly to find her husband, her friend of nearly sixteen years - sixteen long years in which they had battled dragons, goblins, and a dark lord together - and give him a bone crushing hug. To forget about the menial arguments and quarrels that they so often found themselves fighting in place of the dark witches and wizards who had hunted them in their youth.

But she knew it would be ultimately pointless, that in a few short weeks they would find themselves in the same situation.

They purposely pushed each other's limits, knowing what they uttered was cruel and thoughtless with no care how it affected the other. What made things worse was after all was said and done, neither of them ever talked about the root of the issue which had caused the fight in the first place. Instead, they brushed it under the rug along with an apology that never made it out of their mouths; he bought her flowers and she made him apple pie and pudding…

The woman was eager to make amends at the start of their relationship, but now she knew that the words "I'm sorry" had to be pulled out of her husband's arse like a tapeworm - the entire process being arduous and painful and she was so tired of it.

She was tired of Ronald, and was more than sure he was just as fed up with her. Having to walk around on eggshells for two years, lest a wayward glance find her gaze and she dissolved into a pool of tears.

Always tears.

Oh, how Hermione _loathed _the crying.

She wished more than anything to be able to reach inside her brain and shake out the swirling storm of emotions, to get rid of the dark and dusty cobwebs that years of depression and anxiety had left her with. She wanted to be able to think and act clearly without her hormones hitting her like a truck - but nowadays _everything_ felt like a personal attack and she just didn't know if her tears were warranted or if the seemingly constant shroud of postpartum chaos was to blame for her intense reactions.

"Do you like them?"

Ron's voice nearly made her jump and she stopped herself from squeaking in fright as he watched her carefully from the kitchen doorway.

Hermione knew that answering with a yes was tantamount to forgiveness, and then that was it - he would forget anything ever happened.

She couldn't let that happen...not again.

"It was a nice gesture, but I think we need to sort a few things out once the kids go to bed."

Ron blinked back his surprise, he had been wholeheartedly expecting her to accept the token of apology and move on, but the thought of actually _discussing _their problems put a scowl on the ginger's freckled face.

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed, turning around to head back into the kitchen where their children were seated quietly in front of a screen.

Hermione steeled herself and followed after him, ready for what was sure to be a long night.

* * *

After an hour and forty-five minutes of rocking, jiggling and bouncing Hugo, the exhausted mother tiptoed out of the dark room, careful not to disturb her now peacefully sleeping children as she made her way toward the light at the end of the corridor.

She peeked inside and spotted her husband dutifully reading his copy of the Daily Prophet before slipping into their room, trying to act casual.

Already rehearsing her lines while her heart beat a mile a minute, she climbed under the bedsheets and waited for Ron to indicate that he was done with his paper.

To her surprise, the red-head immediately set down his reading and turned to face her, a slight frown painting his features.

"What's on your mind?"

Hermione took a deep breath but found that the words she had so carefully practiced in her mind refused to be uttered. She stared at her husband blankly, unable to spit out the sentence "_I need help_."

She was Hermione Granger - the first Muggle born witch at the top of every single class in her year, the one who had brewed Polyjuice potion - a draught most fully grown wizards had difficulty perfecting - by the age of twelve, the girl who founded S.P.E.W and Dumbledore's Army, the woman who had helped defeat Voldemort and restore peace to the wizarding world.

She didn't ask for help, people asked _her. _

And perhaps that was why she sat there in her flannel pajamas staring stupidly at her husband, unable to ask for the one thing she so desperately needed.

"What's wrong?" Ronald asked delicately, knowing that after Rose, his wife's mental state was as fragile as a crystal glass.

"I…I need help. We need help…"

She was so relieved to get the burden off her chest that she didn't notice the blank stare her spouse was giving her.

"Help with what, Mione?"

"Us"-she waved her hands in the air around them-"Me…I want to be _myself_ again, Ronald…"

Silence filled the air as Hermione fiddled with the grey bed sheets, fixating on a single loose thread as she blinked back the burning tears which stung her eyes.

"You're just tired, you need-"

"No, Ron. I need help, our relationship needs help and I'm not taking no for an answer this time," she declared firmly, staring back into her husband's blue eyes.

The man nodded slowly, catching a glimpse of the sure-willed, fiery woman he had fallen in love with as he reached over to wrap his arms around her.

Hermione breathed in his scent - sweat, laundry detergent and a hint of chip fat from supper - and smiled into his shoulder. This was nowhere near as complex as the white wood, mint and patchouli she had been shrouded in this morning.

"How about I take the kids to mum and dad's this weekend? Give you some time to breathe?" Ron offered, still holding his wife.

She pulled away, rubbing her nose indelicately as she stared at him, wordlessly weighing his offer. On one hand, the thought of two full days of peace, quiet and freedom to do absolutely anything she wanted _when_ she wanted sounded like a flat out miracle. But on the other hand...

"The Ministry Christmas do is on Saturday, I was hoping you would come-"

"Not bloody likely," Ronald snorted, letting go of her completely as he pulled the covers around him, laying his mop of ginger hair down on the pillow. He waved his hand once and the lamp went out, leaving only the cold silver beams of moonlight to illuminate their room.

"There's going to be loads of food!" Hermione said in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, there'll be food at mum's too."

"Oh come on, you're not going to make me go by myself _again, _are you?" His wife accused, recalling their years at the Ministry before they'd had children and her solo appearance every December thanks to the stupid rule that exempt Aurors and Unspeakables from attending.

"I'd honestly rather pull my teeth out than faff around making small talk with a bunch of dusty old bureaucrats."

His wife jabbed him in the ribs, scowling at him. A part of her panicked at the idea of being left to attend the party with a certain blonde Slytherin whose presence seemed to bring forth a strange mishmash of feelings she was desperately afraid to acknowledge. She knew that having Ron there would at least quash the wayward thoughts about Draco from burgeoning into something more...dangerous.

"I'll wear that dress you like," Hermione bartered with only a trace of desperation in her voice, stroking Ron's arm as he turned over to examine her with keen interest.

"The green one with the big slit up the side?"

"It's emerald, but yes - that one."

Her husband seriously contemplated her offer, then shook his head, grinning widely as he turned around to pin her beneath his chest.

"I have a better idea - why don't you go enjoy yourself at the party, spare me the idle chit chat with doddering old fools, and I'll apparate back here once the kids are asleep and help you take that dress off?"

"That hardly sounds fair," Hermione whispered, her stomach clenching at the blatant lust in her husband's eyes.

"You should know by now that I don't play fair," Ronald breathed, gingerly nipping at her ear as his hand worked it's way beneath her pajama bottoms, his fingers quickly getting to work between her thighs.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, losing herself in the steady pleasure of her partner's ministrations, her body ready to succumb to the slow torture of ecstasy while her mind tried to banish the image of a pair of cold, grey eyes and an arrogant smirk which belonged to a man who was not her husband.

* * *

Things had gone better than she'd thought with Ronald last night, and she was determined to crush her awkward feelings towards Draco today. She would be casual, cool and friendly all the while maintaining utmost professionalism. She wanted to make it perfectly clear that she wasn't interested in anything except friendship - regardless of the strange flutter in her stomach each time she laid eyes on him.

So when she marched into work on Tuesday morning, she couldn't help being slightly let down by the empty chair stationed beside hers.

Nonetheless, Hermione was resolved to be productive today - especially without anyone to distract her - and plowed through sixty pages of parchment until the door creaked open at half past eleven and Draco Malfoy silently slipped in.

"Did someone have a lovely lie in?" She teased before taking a glance in the wizard's direction, abruptly eating her own words at his frumpled appearance.

His hair was slightly dishevelled, he looked paler than usual which only accentuated the dark circles under his eyes and all in all, his haggard appearance made her feel bad for taking the mickey out of him as soon as he stepped through the doors.

"Are you alright?" Hermione inquired once the man slumped into his seat next to her.

Draco looked over, his grey eyes glazing over as he processed her question.

"Bit under the weather," he confirmed, wiping the tip of his bright red nose with the back of his sleeve.

The woman instantly felt a sharp pang of guilt at his words.

"You shouldn't have given me your jacket," Hermione stated sheepishly.

"Not that," he said sniffling miserably, "Probably from the stupid panto - theater was crawling with kids."

"Did you take any Pepper-up potion?" Hermione questioned, suddenly in mothering mode. Whether or not she was to blame for his ill health, she still wondered what she could do to help him feel better.

Draco shook his head sluggishly, reaching forward to get started on work when she ripped the file out of his hand, giving him a disapproving stare.

"You should be home in bed!"

"I'm fine, Granger," he declared brusquely, lunging for the paper as Hermione pulled the file slightly out of his reach.

"I probably have a phial in my bag, just stay here and try not to drip snot on my side of the table."

Malfoy looked too miserable to even respond, slumping into his chair even further as Hermione got up to rummage through her purse, elbow deep in an array of items that she would never use but liked to keep on hand - just in case.

Her fingers fumbled around blindly for a moment before she rolled her eyes at her own stupidity - grabbing her wand from her pocket instead.

"Accio Pepper-Up Potion."

A beaker of bright yellow liquid popped out of her bag and into her outstretched hand as the witch turned to address the nearly sleeping blonde.

"Come, drink up," Hermione offered, unstopping the lid as she sidled in beside Malfoy who stubbornly shook his head.

"I'm not going to sit here with steam dribbling out my ears for the rest of the day," he protested, shooing the phial away from him as though she were trying to force a bottle of urine on him.

"Well, good thing no one important is here to see you then," Hermione quipped, ignoring the glower he threw at her.

She pushed the potion into his face again and he turned his nose up at it.

"Oh for goodness sake!"

Her initial reaction was to stuff the item into his hands, but was forced to reevaluate her plan when she remembered the strange electricity that seemed to permeate both of their senses each time they touched.

"Just take it," Hermione ordered, dangling the beaker in front of him as he eyed her warily.

Draco was just as careful not to touch her skin as he reluctantly plucked the potion from her grasp, scowling at it before he tipped the bottle back and drained the contents in a few gulps.

He grimaced at the peppery, lemony taste of the potion and held the vial tightly in his fist - Hermione cocked her head to the side as she idly examined his hands, never realizing how large they were and suddenly found herself wondering what that meant about other parts of his anatomy.

She physically jolted out of her obscene thoughts and rubbed her burning face in shame, turning around to take a nonchalant glance at the clock without reading the time.

A few seconds passed before the witch turned back around with her previous decency restored, smirking as a nearly imperceptible trickle of steam began pouring out of Draco's ears. She covered the smile with her hand as Malfoy reopened his eyes - the colour already having returned to his face.

"Better?"

"Perhaps," he admitted begrudgingly, taking a deep breath through his freshly decongested nostrils.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, about to retake her seat when the abruptly painful let-down reflex in her breasts made her grimace in discomfort as she instinctively hunched her back and covered her chest.

"I'll be back in a few," she stated, quickly slinging her bag over her shoulder and leaving the room.

The woman headed towards her pumping office, hoping beyond hope that the breast pads she had haphazardly stuffed into her bra this morning were still in place.

Her milk supply was already dwindling thanks to being back at work, but that didn't mean she wanted to give up on the endeavour altogether.

The witch hastily clipped towards Office 306, her hand on the door handle when McCrae's hoarse voice called out to her from somewhere nearby.

Granger whipped around, crossing her arms around her chest again as her boss meandered over with a bright smile.

"Good news! Just got the permits approved to go ahead with casting your office - should be ready by Friday."

"That's brilliant, thank you!" Hermione said, genuinely happy to hear that she would have a place to call her own. Not to mention another area to stash her snacks and stationery supplies.

"And now Malfoy can have his office back! Everyone wins," Tilda agreed, watching in slight confusion as mirth was wiped clean from the other woman's face.

Hermione felt her usually overactive mind go numb for a moment as she tried to process McCrae's words.

Why would Draco Malfoy let Hermione Granger use _his _office as her own personal storage, pumping, resting and snacking room for the past month? Considering the fact that they hadn't even been on speaking terms just until recently, there was no way he had freely given up his personal space on her first day back. It didn't make any sense...

But then the woman remembered bumping into the blonde on her way out of the bathroom with her machine in hand. And then she recalled his hushed whispering to Tahiri afterwards followed by Zahra's tip about the "free room" just down the hall.

No. Malfoy was a pureblood, there was no way he would have known what a muggle breast pump would even look like, let alone that she needed a place to set it up to be milked like a cow.

"You...didn't know that was his office?" Tilda guessed as she examined her employee's nonplussed expression.

"Not exactly," replied Hermione, now unsure of whether or not she wanted to continue using it. She _undressed_ in there and had her knockers out half of the time. Something about being so exposed in his office made her feel distinctly uncomfortable and she decided to use the bathroom for her needs until Friday.

"Well, I didn't think it was a secret - but you know that man, he's as closed off as a back road. Doesn't want any recognition for any good he does," McCrae shrugged her shoulders indifferently, clapping Hermione on the back by way of farewell before heading down the corridor.

Not quite sure what to do with the information, she ultimately decided that the first step was to clear out her belongings from the man's room and entered the office with a new appreciation for Draco.

Whatever his motivation, he had saved her from weeks of having to pump in the loo, and for that she was more than grateful. The witch looked around in embarrassment at all of her clutter which had accumulated over the past while and hastily scooped up the miscellaneous items - bananas, granola bars, empty bottles, extra flanges, nursing pads - and stuffed them into her bag as she thanked the stars for undetectable extension charms.

Hermione took a minute to look around the cozy space, noticing that there wasn't a single memento or sign of Malfoy anywhere in here. She wondered what it would be like to be so emotionally closed off, and shook her head sadly before leaving the space and heading towards the bathroom to pump, already missing the comfy leather seats of Draco's office.

* * *

Hermione emerged fifteen minutes later, her breasts feeling like deflated airbags as she repositioned the new nursing pads in her bra before acknowledging the angry growl which emanated from her stomach.

She sighed, deciding the boring turkey sandwich that was crammed into her purse was too blaise for today. She was craving something warm and hearty…

The witch abruptly decided on the perfect way to show her appreciation for Draco's kind gesture, to help him feel even better after spending the morning with a nasty cold and to satisfy her inner foodie.

Granger made her way to the Caffe Concerto, a small italian soup and sandwich shop located mere minutes from Whitehall with a spring in her step as she inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of simmering tomato bisque and freshly grilled paninis.

Waiting in line, she suddenly realized that she had no idea what to order. Sure, she would be fine with some Minestrone, but would Malfoy? Come to think of it, she didn't remember seeing him eat at all while at Hogwarts. She had absolutely no inclination of what that man liked or disliked for food - did he have allergies? Intolerances? Was he a vegetarian?

Hermione read over the menu again, her eyes hastily grabbing hold of the first item on the soup list; Pasta E Fagiolli.

The woman grimaced, unsure if the sausage was something to steer clear of as her eyes darted to the second item on the menu; Straciatella.

She balked at the egg soup, not sure if she wanted to sit in a Boardroom for the rest of the afternoon with a bowl of steaming chicken broth, parmesan, beaten eggs and spinach.

After a few more unsuccessful options, Hermione decided to go with the classics - Minestrone soup, Brodo di pollo and Tortellini.

A few minutes later, the witch was making her way back to work with four plastic containers filled to the brim with piping hot stew. It was only after she had stepped through the door when she realized three different types of soup for one man was probably overdoing it.

Draco, his vitality now restored, looked up at her from the document he was perusing, a steady stream of white steam pouring out of his ears as he did a double take at the amount of food in her hands.

"Expecting company this afternoon?" He inquired warily, the thought of socializing already seemed to be draining his energy.

Hermione's eyebrows instantly tacked to the top of her forehead as she tried to say thank you in the least assuming way possible.

"I just wanted to...umm, actually I,"-The witch fumbled nervously with the tray in her hand, blushing furiously under his intense gaze as she cursed herself for feeling like an insecure schoolgirl in his presence-"these are for you."

Whatever Draco had been expecting, it hadn't been that. He looked at her as though she'd just pulled a cow from between her legs as an unmistakable blush crept up his neck. He cleared his throat, repositioning himself in the recliner as he avoided her eyes.

Hermione smiled, somewhat relieved that she wasn't the only one who reverted to teenage awkwardness in times like these.

She slowly made her way towards the wizard, placing the food on the table as she sat down in her own chair, swiveling to face him.

"Thank you for letting me use your office for the past month," she said quietly, watching as the deep shade of red on his neck crept steadily into his cheeks and ears, his eyes still glued to the parchment in front of him.

A minute of silence passed before Draco spoke.

"Tahiri told you?"

"McCrae actually."

Malfoy sighed through his nose, seemingly disappointed that his boss had let the news slip.

"Well you didn't need to get me anything, Granger," he assured, eyeing the bowls on the table.

Hermione began prying each container from the tray and setting them onto the hard, oak surface in front of her colleague.

"I thought you could use a pick me up after catching a cold that I'm sure I was responsible for," she explained, smiling slightly at the way he shook his head - the steam still trickling from his ears wafting side to side at the movement. "Also, I was hungry," she admitted, taking her own bowl of Minestrone and peeling the lid off.

Draco stole a glance at her, their eyes meeting for a split second before they both looked away again nervously.

A few more seconds of silence ensued before they both opened their mouths to speak, Malfoy gesturing towards Hermione to go first.

"Well...I was just wondering," she began, stuffing her mouth with a spoonful of soup, hoping the hearty broth would settle the butterflies in her stomach. "How did you know what my machine was? I mean, the pump? It's purely a Muggle device, I wouldn't expect…"

She trailed off as the rest of her sentence played in her head, sounding utterly offensive.

"A Pureblood elitist like me to know what it was?" Draco finished her thought without a trace of timidity, staring at her as though she were right in thinking so lowly of him.

"I wouldn't expect a _man_ to know what a breast pump looked like," Hermione lied, ignoring the blatant look of disbelief on Malfoy's face as he studied her outwardly calm appearance.

After gauging her reaction for a few seconds, Draco sat back in his chair, twirling the thick silver ring on his middle finger as he spoke.

"As far as wizarding methods go for extracting a mother's milk, it's a lot more dangerous to use magic to pull something like that from a person's body. The risk of rupturing milk ducts and causing internal bruising was much too high for someone as weak as Astoria after Scorpius was born. So she set out to find a way to safely stockpile enough milk to last Scorpius at least six months."

Draco explained slowly and carefully, his voice surprisingly mellifluous as it filled the air for what was undoubtedly the longest stretch she had ever heard him speak. Hermione realized she was on the edge of her seat, hanging onto every word that left his mouth as though her life depended on it.

"She had a friend who suggested the Muggle method, and to our pleasant surprise, it worked brilliantly. Astoria was hooked up to that damn thing for hours on end - so of course I recognized it in your arms almost immediately."

The witch felt her eyes stinging, her breath catching in her throat as she dared to ask her next question.

"Did she get to six months?"

Draco smiled, his eyes burning with pride as he looked at Hermione.

"Six months and two days."

The woman breathed a jagged sigh of relief, not knowing what she would have done if his answer had been different. She threw a heartfelt smile in the widower's direction, admiring his strength, compassion and courage.

Malfoy volleyed with a small smile of his own, his gaze settling back onto the food in front of him.

"So, what exactly is this?" He asked, prying the lid off of the Brodo di pollo and grimacing at the poignant smell of parmesan.

Granger cleared her throat, realizing he was done talking about his past as she hastily tried to catch up.

"That's basically chicken noodle soup, it's absolutely delicious," she assured, watching him warily eye the chunks of meat floating in the broth.

Hermione took another huge mouthful of her soup as though to encourage the hesitant man that the food she had spent nearly 40 quid on, was in fact appetizing.

Whether he did it simply to be polite or if he actually wanted to try it, Draco plucked a plastic spoon from the tray and took a heaping mouthful of the dish, his brow furrowing intensely as the flavours mingled upon his taste buds.

"You don't like it?" The witch asked, unable to keep the heat from her face as she hastily pushed the Minestrone in front of the blonde who pushed it away, shaking his head with vigour.

"No, Granger - this is _really _good," he admitted enthusiastically, taking another huge spoonful as he slurped noisily into the plastic bowl.

Hermione tried to stifle her grin at the sight of the once formidable, pretentious Draco Malfoy who was now sitting in front of her with his nose buried in a bowl of soup, flecks of chicken broth flying onto his expensive suit.

"Wha- wah 'is called again?" He asked through another gobful, scraping down the sides of the container as he miraculously inhaled it without choking.

"Brodo di pollo," she stated, taking another bite of her own lunch which was still nearly full.

She gave the man a few minutes to enjoy his food uninterrupted and sat, bemused at the fervor with which he was eating.

"That was incredible, thank you," he declared with a contented sigh, setting the empty bowl down in front of him.

"You've got two more to go," Hermione informed, pushing the second Minestrone towards him.

Draco was much more enthusiastic this time around, peeling the lid off and peering into the bowl with interest as he dipped his utensil in.

"You don't have Italian very often I'm assuming?" She inquired, watching him taste and then - much more slowly and civilly this time - consume the food.

"Growing up, most foreign food and drink were forbidden - especially if they were dishes eaten by the Muggles of the region as well. Didn't want us catching their inferiority," he explained, a sardonic smile on his face as he savoured the Minestrone. "The only exceptions were if a Pureblood family of the same culture presented a meal, then we would eat it without question. Even then, anything too exotic and father made sure we all had a good _cleanse_ afterwards."

Hermione tried to banish the look of absolute abhorrence on her features as Draco looked up at her, eyes dark and guarded.

The witch sat, speechless for a few moments, unable to even fathom how horrid Malfoy's upbringing had been.

"That's awful," she contributed lamely, not sure of what more she could or even wanted to say.

The wizard scoffed before taking another huge mouthful of food.

"You don't even know the half of it, Granger."

And for that she was undoubtedly grateful, not wanting to imagine what else the boy had been through growing up with Lucius for a father.

"Right, what's next?" Draco asked, pushing the half empty bowl away from him. "I want to try them all before I burst at the seams."

Hermione smiled appreciatively, glad to be off the topic of his twisted upbringing. She was more than grateful he was beginning to open up to her, but certain conversations were better suited for a dark, stormy night. Although for someone who rarely spoke about his personal life, he was quite adept at keeping things light before they got bogged down with too much baggage.

The woman presented him with the tortellini, completely giving up on work for the afternoon as she sat and tried not to watch him too closely while he ate.

"Thank you again, for this," Draco said, gesturing towards the array of plastic containers. "But you know what this means, don't you?"

The witch's heart fluttered at the look on his face as he stared at her expectantly.

"Do enlighten me," she replied, barely hearing her own voice over the sound of her pounding pulse.

"Lunch is on me tomorrow," he said with a smirk, winking subtly at the woman who nearly choked on her spit. Hermione felt nauseous and lightheaded at the same time and stuffed another spoonful of soup into her mouth, hoping that the heat from her face would go unnoticed in the bright office lights.

So much for putting an end to her ill fated crush on Draco Malfoy.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm fine, Mione!" Ronald declared forcefully from inside the loo, the sound of uncontrollable retching ensuing as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Why would you eat this?" His wife called out in aggravation, staring in disgust at the morbidly old chicken he had decided to snack on for lunch today.

Hermione immediately threw it in the bin, shaking her head at his stupidity as she sighed heavily, knowing that he would be in no fit state to watch the children tomorrow.

She would have to fire-call McCrae first thing in the morning and tell her boss that she wouldn't be in, a small pit of sadness settling in her stomach at the thought of missing work.

Well, not so much missing work as it was missing lunch with Draco.

A cinderblock of guilt crushed her thoughts as she surprised even herself - her plans with Malfoy were the last thing she should be concerned about right now!

_Your husband is throwing his lungs up, and you're disappointed about missing lunch with another man? You daft cow!_

Hermione blanched at her own carelessness, shaking her head vehemently in defiance of her feelings before making her way to the toilet where a green-gilled Ron was slouched.

"Do you need anything?" She asked gently, guilt forcing her to inquire much too sweetly as she assessed her ill spouse.

The man shook his head heavily, eyelids drooping as he battled another wave of nausea.

"Okay, I'll be home tomorrow to watch the kids."

"No, I'll be fine by morning-"

"I'm staying home," she affirmed. The woman's guilt slowly subsiding as she pledged herself to her wifely duties. "Besides, there's nothing important happening on a Wednesday."

_Liar._

Ronald peered up at her from over the toilet bowl, a faint smile on his clammy face.

"Thank you."

Hermione nodded at her husband, knowing that if their roles were reversed he would have gone into the office unless she flat out instructed him to stay home. Not out of cruelty or malice - that was just how Ron was. He couldn't read her mind and it was wrong to expect him to know when she needed his help. What bothered her was that he didn't even _ask._

His wife gave him an empty smile before heading into the next room where Rose and Hugo were screaming loudly, both trying to claim possession of the same toy.

She came over, gently prying the ball out of their tiny hands and hiding it on top of a shelf before sitting cross legged on the hard floor beside her wailing children.

The witch scooped up her two babies and smothered them in a sea of kisses, closing her eyes as she hugged them enormously, their sobbing slowing down as she reassured them with her presence.

She sat there quietly for what seemed like an eternity, rocking them back and forth in her lap as the sound of Ron's vomiting filled the air and a sense of unmistakable sadness filled her soul at the thought of the man in the bathroom.

* * *

The next day passed in a blur, her husband finally able to keep down more than a soda cracker after twelve straight hours of purging his system of spoiled poultry.

She remembered looking at the clock at noon, trying not to imagine what Draco was doing at work. She desperately tried not to wonder if he missed her company or if he was relieved by her absence, and most of all she tried not to wonder if he was as disappointed about missing lunch as she was.

Instead, she kicked the pesky thoughts about Malfoy from her mind and turned them into loving deeds for her husband.

Hermione dutifully made Ronald a thin noodle soup from scratch, made sure the kids were fully entertained and out of his hair, brewed a lovely cup of ginger chai - sans dairy - and even packed the kids up and headed over to Boots to buy a pack of Dioralyte.

Each time she presented the red-head with a new remedy, his tired blue eyes searched her face for any sort of expression aside from the tight smile she offered, but she kept her true feelings hidden from her features and went to bed that night with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something bothering her…

"Are you upset with me?"

The room was dark and the couple were preparing for sleep to take hold when her husband's voice filled the air.

Hermione frowned, her eyes still closed.

"Why would I be upset with you, Ronald?"

"I dunno…" the man said as she felt him roll over to face her. "You just seem off."

His wife thought about his words, searching the back of her eyelids for an answer. Perhaps she _was _upset with him after all.

No, upset wasn't the right word.

Resentful.

That was it.

She _resented _him for ruining her plans today - not that Ron had gotten sick on purpose - but still. He was always the reason she missed out on things, not just with friends. He never wanted to go anywhere new or do anything _fun._

Museum? Too boring.

Art gallery? Too pretentious.

Travel? Too much work with the kids.

Vacation without the kids? Too much money.

She was drowning in monotony and just as she had found someone who genuinely made her feel something other than complacency, he had to ruin it.

Hermione opened her eyes and studied the forlorn expression on her husband's face.

"I know I'm not perfect, and definitely not the best looking bloke out there, but I'm glad you chose me," Ronald whispered sweetly, reaching over to give her curly hair a rare stroke.

And just like that - in one sentence - he made every trace of resentment disappear into thin air, the previous emotion replaced with awful, gnawing guilt. She swallowed a wracking sob, unable to tell him her true thoughts, knowing that she owed it to Ron to bury her unhappiness - her absolute lack of vitality - and soldier on like any devoted wife and selfless mother.

They were too far into the game to give up on each other now, no matter how dysfunctional they were together.

Were they dysfunctional? God, Hermione didn't even know - he was her first and only real relationship. What if all couples were like this behind closed doors? What if behind every "I love you" there was a concealed universal truth of hurt, unhappiness and resentment?

She reached over and burrowed into her husband's chest, wet tears pooling against her nose as she gave him a tiny peck on the collarbone.

"I love you," the woman said quietly, reassuring herself over and over and over again that Ronald Weasley was the only one for her.

He had to be.

* * *

Thursday morning dawned slowly and meticulously, a bleary eyed toddler belly flopping into their bed just past three, followed by a rude awakening two hours later courtesy of a starving eleven month old.

Hermione yawned hugely, placing Hugo on his playmat and dumping out a bin of blocks for him to play with as she got up to get ready for work.

Not in the mood to faff around with buttons or pants, she opted for a cerise long sleeve dress that fell just below her knees, pairing the ensemble with a pair of sheer stockings, a black cardigan and a pair of matching pumps.

She was dressed nicely enough - for once - and decided the frizzy bun wouldn't do today. Taking out her wand, she waved her hand and tamed the unruly curls into a curtain of pin-straight cinnamon tresses.

Idly reaching for her mascara, she applied a thin layer over her lashes along with the faintest trace of blusher before an ear piercing shriek from Hugo had her flying back into the living room only to find her infant grinning from ear to ear with no danger or injury in sight.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, bending over to scoop him up as she planted a huge kiss on his chubby little cheeks, pretending to slurp up the rolls of baby fat around his neck as he giggled gleefully, wriggling with delight in her arms.

In moments like this, staring into his beautiful, innocent, perfect face, she truly missed staying home.

"Surprised to see you two up," Ronald stated groggily from the doorway, indelicately readjusting his bollocks before coming over to take Hugo.

"He was extra hungry this morning," Hermione explained, giving her son another kiss as the boy grabbed at her hair with gusto. "Rose still asleep?" She asked, kissing her nodding husband on the lips.

"I've already made some waffles, they're on the table," the witch announced, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder as she made her way to the Fireplace, ready to start her work day.

* * *

Back at the office, Hermione found herself stalling as she reached Boardroom C, not sure if she wanted to find out the extent to which Malfoy's presence affected her. Especially since she was more than certain the feelings were not reciprocated.

Throwing caution to the wind and taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and gently pulled the door open.

Draco's grey eyes instantly found hers and she felt her heart stop before gathering twice as much speed - he was wearing a navy blazer with a bright blue jumper underneath, the cerulean shirt making his already mesmerizing irises seem almost hypnotic.

A faint blush crept into her cheeks at the intensity with which he glared at her and she cursed her treacherous capillaries.

She noticed very plainly the way his gaze lingered on her sleek hair and makeup, his own ears glowing scarlet….

Maybe she had been wrong in assuming her crush was unrequited.

"Thought I'd scared you off," he announced casually, reaching over to swivel the chair around for her.

"Hardly," Hermione retorted, taking a seat as she let her bag slouch onto the floor. "I don't scare easily."

"I'm counting on it," Draco answered, gaze already back to his papers while the woman beside him blushed even harder, wondering why in Merlin's name he had to say things like that.

His eyes flicked to her like a knife, raking over her face and settling just a moment too long on her breasts. She felt her core pulse at the attention, her heart beat reaching unfathomable speed as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

_Ron. Ronald. Ronald. Think of your husband. _

The brunette cleared her throat as she changed the course of their conversation.

"Did I miss anything monumental?"

"Not at all," Malfoy replied, focusing back on his work as he scowled, scribbling fervently onto the document.

Hermione nodded, somewhat let down by their lack of rapport after the ease with which they conversed on Tuesday afternoon. But she supposed he couldn't be equally as loquacious _everyday._

The witch pulled herself closer to the desk and slid the next file from her ever diminishing stack of parchment.

The two colleagues worked in silence for what felt like hours before Hermione took a glance at the clock.

11:30

She made a face at it, wondering if she would have enough time to buy Draco's Secret Santa gift during lunch. Not that she had the slightest idea of what to get him.

Perhaps a scarf? Or maybe a new pair of gloves?

"Come on, time to go," Malfoy declared suddenly, setting his supplies down as he pushed away from the desk.

The woman looked around, almost expecting to see someone else in the room with them but soon realized he had indeed been addressing her.

"Go where?"

"For lunch - I told you it was my turn," he explained, shrugging into his jacket as he sauntered toward the door, his bewildered colleague only just rising from her chair.

"But I have to run an errand, I-"

"Come on Granger, or I'm actually going to throw you over my shoulder this time," he threatened, eyes glinting dangerously in the light as Hermione's breath hitched in her throat.

"You will do no such thing!" She squeaked, backing up a step as Draco took one closer. "I have a prior engagement so lunch will have to be rescheduled."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her, throwing his jacket off in one fluid movement and turning his sleeves up before advancing on her menacingly.

"Just don't scuff the shirt, yeah - it's Armani," he instructed, crouching down as though to scoop her up before she stepped away, her stomach heaving in trepidation and excitement all at once.

"Okay! You plonker," she proclaimed rather rudely, stumbling backwards while holding an arm out in front of her as though trying to ward off a wild animal.

He turned around and laughed - he didn't snigger cruelly or smirk or chortle or chuckle, he full stop laughed aloud - for the first time she had ever heard, and Hermione thought her ears were going to sprout mouths of their own just so they could smile at the sound.

"I don't think I've ever been called a plonker before, Granger - I quite like it," he admitted with a light chuckle, his mood and expression brighter than a neon sign as a spellbinding smile enveloped his face.

He was unfairly handsome when he smiled.

_Ron. Ronald. Think of your husband. _

She ducked her head, her face beet red; certain that It would explode if any more heat rushed to it as she brushed herself off, heading towards the door while steering clear of the smirking blonde who looked utterly pleased with her fumbling reaction.

"Oh - ready to go so soon?" He said in a mock tone of surprise, straightening out his sleeves again.

Hermione scoffed and shook her head in amusement, unable to stop the grin which spread on her face as she stood at the exit with an unmistakable bubble of excitement swelling deep in her chest.

"Please tell me _that's _not your coat," Malfoy accused, giving her cardigan a disapproving glare as he came around the table to join her at the door.

"I'll be fine," she assured, wrapping the warm sweater around herself tightly before making a bolt for the exit before he could force his own upon her again. But the man was too fast, grabbing her by the wrist as they both gasped at the sharp jolt of electricity that ran through their flesh.

He let go of her arm as though she had burned him and the sensation stopped instantly.

They exchanged bewildered glances, Malfoy flexing his fingers and Hermione massaging her wrist as they stood awkwardly, both afraid to address the peculiar pull between them. Something she had completely neglected to look into as she'd planned.

Finally Malfoy reached forward and grabbed his jacket off the floor, holding it out to her with the very tips of his fingers as though he were discarding a soiled nappy.

"Just take the damn thing," he ordered, avoiding her sheepish gaze as she took the coat and wrapped herself in its warm confines once more.

She involuntarily took a large sniff of his collar, recognizing the scent of saffron, grapefruit and crushed tobacco- wondering how on Earth something could smell so masculine and fruity at the same time.

"What cologne is this?" Hermione asked, simply unable to stop herself as each sniff uncovered different notes - elemi, pink pepper, cinnamon...the list went on. She was seriously considering buying Ronald a bottle just so she could smell it at home.

Her interest in his scent made the man fidget and he tried not to watch her take another long whiff, his ears turning bright pink before he scratched the back of his head.

"It's a Muggle brand - Viktor Rolf's Spicebomb."

"I want to strip down and bathe in it," Hermione joked, immediately apologizing when she realized the unintended effect her words had on the man who groaned almost miserably, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as though trying to rub out an unwelcome image.

Did he perhaps have an inkling of a crush on her as well?

"Let's go before we miss our reservation," Draco replied quietly, seeming to have regained his composure as he practically shoved her out the door.

Reservation?

"Exactly where are we going?"

Malfoy took a quick look at her snuggled warmly in his jacket and smirked appreciatively, his grey eyes lingering on her stocking clad legs and high heeled pumps.

This man was going to get her into _so_ much trouble.

"It's a surprise," he said, raising his brows at her before taking the lead.

Hermione blinked after him for a second, the last time she had been surprised was almost twenty months ago as she stared dumbfoundedly at yet another positive pregnancy test.

The witch smiled after her colleague, quickly trying to catch up with the man while trying not to feel overly scandalous for leaving the office with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Thankfully they didn't have to travel very far, especially since her lunch mate was practically running in front of her.

Hermione nearly tripped three times in the short walk from Whitehall, not knowing if his haste was due to the sub zero temperatures or if he just didn't feel like standing too close beside her.

Whatever the case, they arrived at a posh looking hotel with an exquisite stone facade littered with Corinthian pillars.

In all her years at the Ministry, Hermione had never ventured past the Pret a Manger on ' street, most places this side of Westminster well beyond her budget for lunch.

Draco bounded up the stairs to the entrance, nodding to the doorman as he pulled the ornate entryway open for her before standing to the side like a guard waiting for the Queen to pass by. The woman threw him a small smile by way of thanks and stepped through the threshold, stopping dead in her tracks.

The beauty of the lobby alone took her completely off guard: an utterly massive chandelier with twinkling string lights hung from a crystal paned oculus in the centre of the exquisitely furnished area. Cream coloured, high back chairs and plush couches were tastefully paired with gleaming oak tables and counters, enormous bouquets of pure white flowers amassed on top of every flat surface, spilling down the sides like milk from a bowl. The perfect symmetry of the doorways, all twelve feet high and bordered with a gleaming silver trim, gave the room an unearthly extravagance and Hermione felt her wallet get lighter with every step.

"Shall we?" Malfoy's voice brought her back to Earth as she turned around, trying not to gape at him.

"I buy you soup from a kiosk and you bring me to Buckingham Palace!?" Hermione squawked, suddenly feeling utterly inadequate in such a pretentious establishment. She had half a mind to run back to her 4 quid turkey on rye sitting in the office.

Draco rolled his grey eyes skyward, the sun from the windows passing through his irises making them look like diamonds caught in the light and the woman abruptly realized that this man was born for extravagance.

"This way, Granger," he informed, gesturing with his hand past the foyer and through one of the immense archways where she could see a polished grand piano sitting upon a beautifully hand woven persian rug.

Hermione gulped, but advanced further into the belly of the ostentatious building, cringing as each of her steps reverberated loudly off the marble walls while Draco followed silently behind her.

She could see a lunette doorway up ahead with a forcibly grinning hostess standing guard.

"Good afternoon and welcome to The Northall, are you both guests at the hotel?" She inquired politely, her accent immediately recognizable as Mancunian.

"No, we have reservations for two under Malfoy," the man explained, straightening out his suit as the hostess consulted the list tacked to the podium behind her.

"Excellent," the woman confirmed, taking a quick peek at Hermione who most likely looked like a stray dog that had followed a barrister home. "Right this way."

They followed the hostess through the door and into the exorbitant dining hall where people were eating, drinking and conversing while completely oblivious to the stunning architecture which surrounded them.

Hermione however, drank it all in - her brown eyes widening in awe at the five tier, wagon wheel chandelier in the middle of the room. It sat just above the bar which was surrounded by grey veined marble and flanked on either side by two massive Corinthian columns which extended towards the ceiling that was painted with what looked like gold filigree. It sparkled beautifully in the light of the grandiose Palladian windows which lined the west wall.

It was Romanesque, it was gaudy, it was completely ostentatious and above all else, it was breathtaking.

She noticed Draco studying her wide eyed reaction as they were seated, the hotel employee handing them a pair of menus before strolling away.

"You seem like you're at the zoo," Malfoy observed quietly, the expression on his own face looking slightly guilty as he searched her features.

Hermione smiled, shaking her head vehemently while she slipped out of his jacket and looked around at the awe inspiring room once again.

"It's just, this building is incredible - you see those in the middle over there?" She said, pointing enthusiastically at the Roman pillars by the bar. Ancient Runes - and by extension Ancient art and architecture - were one of the few topics which still truly excited the witch.

Draco's eyes reluctantly pulled away from her face and found the object which had so readily captured her attention.

"They're Corinthian columns - actually, even the name Corinthian is rumored to be erroneous,"-she snorted, gearing up for what she was sure to be a zinger-"According to Vetruvius, the man who sculpted the first one wasn't even from Corinth. He was Athenian!"

Hermione tittered at her own joke while Malfoy stared at her with a raised eyebrow, absolutely bemused by her inane rambling.

"Sorry," she said blushing furiously as she realized that a Pureblood like Malfoy would have no idea - and no interest - in the Roman Orders. Come to think of it, most Muggles wouldn't even be interested.

The witch cleared her throat, trying to conceal her embarrassment by taking a look at the menu before Draco reached over and pulled it down, her eyes lifting upwards.

"Don't."

Hermione looked at him blankly, the heat from her face having yet to dissipate.

"Don't what?" She asked, unsure if the look in his eyes was that of pity or sorrow.

"Don't apologize for something you're passionate about - I want to know what you were going to say," he replied, frowning at her.

"No you don't, no one does," she laughed, completely unoffended. And it was true, most of her own family and friends groaned loudly as soon as she began talking about anything to do with Ancient Muggle and Wizarding architecture.

"No really, I didn't know Callamachus was Athenian - tell me more," Draco demanded, propping his elbow onto the table as he rested his chin in his hand, completely oblivious to the fact that the woman in front of him was currently having a tiny heart attack as a result of his sentence.

He knew who Callamachus was! Not just in passing either, he _knew _the sculptor and his creations! But how? There was no way he read up on ancient Muggle empires in his spare time...did he?

"I was tutored on the Ancient Egyptian, Greek, Roman and Persian empires," Malfoy explained as though reading her mind, sitting up again as he unfolded the taupe napkin and spread it out onto his lap. "A lot of wizarding world buildings - including Gringotts - were inspired by GrecoRoman architecture. Not to mention quite a few of the historical figures were wizards and witches themselves - including Callamachus."

"What? According to whom?" Hermione accused, her heart flailing wildly against her ribcage as she felt the rush of adrenaline that only accompanied learning something new and exciting. She had read through almost every book in the Hogwarts library, many of them mentioning the famous witches and wizards of the past - Imhotep, Cleopatra, Homer, Xerxes - the list was extensive, but not once had she seen the name Callamachus anywhere.

Draco smirked.

"Not exactly the know-it-all I remember, Granger," he teased, opening up his menu.

She smiled, not even upset with the challenge.

"Come off it, how do you know he was a wizard?"

Malfoy grinned, thoroughly enjoying her enthusiasm.

"We had one of his personal diaries in the library. He was incredibly secretive about his magic."

"No!" Hermione denied incredulously, completely enthralled by Malfoy's attestation. She would kill to read a journal written by the master himself. "Why have you never mentioned it before?!"

"It's not exactly something that comes up in normal conversations," Draco chortled, staring at her in an appreciative manner. "He had a four page entry on his love affairs but not a single word about being from Athens."

"I'd give anything to read it!" She declared, following his example of unfolding her napkin and splaying it out on her lap.

"I'd let you have it, but…" the man trailed off, his expression darkening. "It's still at Malfoy Manor."

Hermione's chest seized up at the thought of that dreadful place, instantly closing her eyes and trying to focus on anything except the memories of torture. After a few seconds of training her thoughts on Rose, Hugo, friends and family, she reopened them and read the look of remorse and shame on Draco's face as he watched her.

But they had been down that road and definitely did not need to rehash talk of their past today.

She smiled warmly at him, wordlessly assuring him that she was alright and slowly watched his expression melt like the last snow of Winter.

Then his words abruptly caught up with her.

"Wait...you don't live _there?" _She inquired, genuinely shocked.

Malfoy shook his head, jaw clenching as he spoke.

"I wouldn't go near that place with a ten foot pole."

If Hermione had been tortured there for one night and harboured such intense feelings of hatred for Malfoy Manor, she could only imagine how Draco - who'd had to endure years of abuse - felt about the building.

It surprised her though; she had no idea why she thought he and Scorpius still lived there. Especially since it made perfect sense that Draco had vacated after getting married.

The witch found that her misconceptions and preconceived beliefs about the present day Master Malfoy were proving to be figments of her past prejudices and that they were unravelling at the seams.

"Good afternoon and welcome to the Northall, my name is Johnathan and I will be attending to you today," A posh voice broke their conversation and both Malfoy and Granger jumped at the sound of the waiter who seemed to creep up out of nowhere.

"Sorry, a few more minutes with the menu," Draco answered, preemptively cutting Johnathan short. The Muggle seemed completely indifferent and nodded curtly before heading onto to the next table.

"I guess we got distracted," Hermione said sheepishly, staring down at her menu for a moment and frowned when she saw that none of the prices were listed.

That was never a good sign.

She perused the lunch menu as though reading a manuscript written in German - slow roasted hake? Whole sea bream?

The witch always thought she'd had a comfortable upbringing, but this restaurant made her feel like a scullery maid who had accidentally been invited to high tea.

Hermione glanced up at Malfoy to try and gauge his expression, and of course he looked utterly at ease, grey eyes dancing across the menu as he chose his meal.

The brunette decided to go with the first thing on the list - crispy leg croquettes - and quickly snapped her card shut.

"You've already decided?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yes. Although I wish I could try a bit of everything- it all looks delicious," she fibbed.

She didn't know what half of the items were.

Malfoy seemed to ponder her words as he set his menu down without taking another glance at it, raising an arm and beckoning Johnathan with barely a bend of his wrist.

The impeccably trained waiter came to them at once, his notepad and pen at the ready.

"We'll get the Mountbatten," Draco instructed, rather surprising his lunch mate at the term _we. _He passed both of their menus off to the Muggle who turned a slightly confused gaze to Hermione, then back to Malfoy.

"Just the two of you, sir?"

"Yes."

"May I suggest the Sussex?"

"No," Draco replied with a small smile which made the witch in front of him wonder just what in the world a Mountbatten was.

"Very well, your order will be out as soon as possible," Johnathan informed, flipping his notepad shut as Malfoy nodded in accordance.

As the waiter disappeared from view Hermione turned a shrewd gaze onto the blonde.

"What did you do?" She asked accusingly, something telling her that she wasn't going to be pleased.

"Ordered us lunch,"-he replied shrugging his broad shoulders-"you're welcome," Draco replied in a mockingly scathing tone.

"Thank you," the brunette volleyed, blushing again as she averted her gaze.

The two sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Hermione cleared her throat and turned towards him, fully intending to force a conversation if she had to.

"So, have you finished your Christmas shopping?"

Malfoy scoffed derisively, tilting his head to the side as he examined her bathed in the afternoon sun - his expression softening the longer he stared.

"Not quite yet," he admitted. "You?"

The woman laughed aloud.

"I wish! I've only got about a hundred people to buy for."

He smiled, perhaps not quite caring about her extensive list of gift recipients. He did seem to enjoy watching her talk though, and so she prattled on - about Ronald's family, her parents, Harry's kids, friends from Hogwarts - until she felt like her throat was going to crack.

All the while Draco sat and listened wholeheartedly, nodding and congratulating her when she mentioned Ginny and Angelina were both pregnant.

He really did have impeccable manners and perhaps she was accustomed to being tuned out halfway through a sentence - something she was equally guilty of when Ronald spoke - but she found herself overly conscious of how intently he seemed to be hanging onto her words.

She finished her tirade, taking a huge sip of water.

"All this talk of presents does make me wonder what the infamous Draco Malfoy has on his list to Father Christmas."

The wizard in question raised his brows in surprise.

"Infamous?"

"Only slightly," she amended, taking another sip of water.

"I haven't really given it much thought actually," he confessed, shrugging again as he looked around for their waiter.

"Well now I'm especially curious," she pried, hoping he would let something slip that would help her buy his gift that she was supposed to have ready by tomorrow. "I mean, if you _had_ to pick something."

He scratched his chin, grey eyes searching the sky before he finally divulged the information Hermione had been hoping to extract from him.

"A mug."

"That's it?" She exclaimed, somewhat underwhelmed by his answer. She had been expecting something along the lines of a self driving car.

Draco nodded, craning his neck over her shoulder as his gaze caught something behind her, his face suddenly splitting into a wicked grin.

"You ready for lunch, Granger?"

Hermione gave him a suspicious glare, not at all fond of the absolutely smug look he was wearing as she turned her head, nearly falling out of her chair when she spotted them.

What seemed like the entire hotel staff was advancing in a steady procession, each carrying a tray of steaming food in their hands, sights trained on their table of two.

The woman got up from her seat, ready to run out of the dining hall as a sea of heads turned to follow the line of every single item on the Northall menu that was being brought out of the kitchens.

"And where do you think you're going?" Malfoy asked, jumping out of his chair as he placed a firm grip on her elbow, shoving the witch back into her seat with his own body.

"Get off!" Hermione hissed, absolutely livid as she smacked one of his well padded shoulders. "I can't believe you ordered everything on the menu!"

"You said you wanted to try it all!" Draco defended, a shit eating grin plastered onto his face as he sat on the side of her chair, effectively blocking off her escape route.

She buried her face in her hands, ears redder than her dress, as every pair of eyes in the room fixated on them while the waiters took turns setting plate after plate onto their table, eventually having to push two together just to fit all the food.

"You're so lucky we're in front of Muggles or I swear I'd turn you into a toad!" Granger threatened, peeking out from behind her fingers as the parade of staff took their leave.

"A toad? How uninspired," he remarked, almost offended by her lack of creativity.

"Shut up," she spat, shoving him slightly with an elbow as he turned to smirk at her over his shoulder, still nearly sitting on top of her.

His proximity was definitely an issue, the woman's heart was performing an acrobatic freak show behind her ribcage at the way his huge back pressed up against the side of her body. Despite her previous anger, she had an almost primal urge to lean into him, to rub up against him like a cat in heat, to feel his weight and warmth on her.

"Please move," Hermione pleaded, feeling the muscles between her thighs contracting with arousal as she drove out the image of Draco - sweaty, breathless and naked - on top of her.

Malfoy instantly got up, alarmed by the tone of her voice. He seemed afraid that he had unintentionally squished her, but when he saw the woman trying to regain her composure, face flushed with indecent thoughts and adulterous desires he abruptly realized what was going on.

He muttered an apology under his breath, returning to his own chair with a crimson complexion as the two started their enormous lunch shrouded in an uncomfortable blanket of sexual tension.

Hermione cursed herself for feeling this way. She felt like she had betrayed Ronald and their children without even having laid a finger on Malfoy.

She told herself that this was all just a crush. An innocent, fleeting fancy that would pass with the changing season. That her undeniable feelings towards Draco would fizzle over the Christmas holidays.

But deep down, she knew it wasn't true.

She could feel things around the blonde that she had long thought dead, or at least permanently dormant.

No.

_NO_.

She was being ridiculous - they were just friends.

Draco's steely eyes found hers, raking over her features before he smiled coyly, causing an instant flood of heat to her cheeks as she returned a bashful grin at him, ducking her head while the two continued to pick away at the food in silence, their unspoken attraction slowly growing stronger.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed this story. It means so much and keeps me motivated! You are all much loved xoxo**

* * *

Hermione trailed her fingers along the delicate petals of an endless sea of blooming flowers, their colourful faces bright and open, forever reaching towards the light.

She shivered as the breeze picked up, her skin erupting in gooseflesh despite the shining Sun which warmed her body. A distant chorus of music could be heard on the wind; slow, soothing guitar accompanied by the steady beat of a rolling drum.

The song sounded so familiar, yet she couldn't quite put her finger on it...

The woman stared at the enormous white tent that had been erected in the middle of a glowing field of blue and purple - the multicoloured flames dancing happily in their jars just as the people inside were waltzing merrily, drunk and stupid on love and wine.

Hermione smiled sadly at the scene, not knowing why she felt a melancholy tug at her heartstrings at the sight of the married couple in the distance.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist and the woman felt a warm, solid form creep up behind her.

The man's hands explored her body, reaching ever so slowly up the hem of her dress as he leaned in to plant feather light kisses along her neck.

Hermione smiled, shooing his busy hands away from her thighs.

"Stop it, Ronald - they can see us from here."

"I don't see a problem with that, Granger."

The woman's heart nearly jumped out of her throat at the low, husky voice of Draco Malfoy.

She whipped around, skin suddenly burning where he had touched her, her stomach heaving with desire, confusion and fear - not of Malfoy, but of what she might do if left in his company for too long.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered unsteadily, voice trembling with excitement and trepidation as she backed away from the man who stood perfectly still, impossibly beautiful and bathed in golden rays of Sunlight - her own, personal Adonis in the flesh.

He was utterly at ease, his hands hidden in the pockets of his form fitting trousers, cerulean dress shirt unbuttoned carelessly while he smirked - boyish and handsome - advancing toward her.

"Does it matter?" Draco replied, eyeing her hungrily as she continued backing away, her heart on fire.

Malfoy abruptly lunged forward, grabbing the witch in one fell swoop and pinning her against his chest, her will faltering with every passing second as she stared into his hypnotic grey eyes, drowning in their icy depths.

She wanted so badly to ravage him, right then and there in the middle of the field. She wanted to feel his lips working against hers, she wanted to feel every single part of his body against her own. She wanted to watch his cool, careful composure shatter into orgasmic bliss and devour the expression of ecstasy on his face as he emptied himself inside her.

She wanted it - _needed it._

But the wedding… something made her turn towards the party in the field before Malfoy brusquely grabbed her face in his hands, dragging her head and gaze back to him.

"Don't," he whispered, slowly leaning down as though to kiss her, the steady beat of the song in the distance surrounding them, filling their senses like a drug.

Instead of enveloping her mouth with his own, he abruptly spun Hermione around, pulling the woman into his body once more, her back against his chest as his hands steadily trailed downwards. She could feel her heart pounding, lightheaded with euphoria as she closed her eyes, succumbing to Draco who grabbed a handful of her breasts, deftly stroking her already hardened nipples through the cotton dress.

She gasped at the feel, arching her back at the achingly beautiful pleasure which shot straight through to her core, the muscles between her thighs contracting with each of Malfoy's delicate ministrations; the intensity of each tug, pinch and twist waxing and waning with the song floating on the air as though Draco knew each beat, strumming her out beneath his fingers like a guitar only he knew how to play.

Draco leaned in, nipping at her ear while his right hand began an agonizingly slow descent toward the swollen, sensitive flesh between her legs. But he stopped short, pressing her arse flush against the growing excitement in his crotch while he swayed with her to the hypnotic, sensual music that seemed to flood her veins with a desire she'd never known before. Hermione threw her head back, her hips finding a life of their own as they moved side to side like a pendulum finding its way back to a centre which grew bigger and harder with each passing stroke.

"Come with me," Malfoy instructed, abruptly stepping away from the woman while holding a hand out to her.

Hermione stole a glance towards the party once more, frowning when she saw the groom sitting sullenly on a chair by himself, the lights inside the tent extinguished, guests gone and his blushing bride nowhere to be seen.

She squinted, trying to get a better look at the man, her heart stopping when she realized it was Ron.

The rhythmic music disappeared all at once and she was plunged into a deep sadness, not understanding why he looked so distraught.

Perhaps she should go comfort him…

"Come with me, Granger," Draco's voice washed away all thoughts of the unhappy red-head in the field and Hermione turned to him like a flower finding the Sun. His hand was still extended, and he watched her carefully as she deliberated; a part of her held back for a fraction of a second, the part which reminded her of Ronald Weasley who sat alone and miserable by himself, shrouded in darkness without his bride - without _her._

But she moved an inch too close to Malfoy and felt the enigmatic pull between them draw her inward, and the rest was simply instinct as she reached out and grabbed his hand.

His touch was primal, it was a necessity she had never known she'd needed, loaded with an indescribable satisfaction as his fingers laced between her own.

He felt _right_.

Draco smiled, pulling her toward him as she grinned back, her heart and soul alight with joy while the distant voice of her husband called out to her from the field.

"Hermione!"

"Stay with me?" Malfoy asked, laying her down on the warm grass as he knelt by her side, a single tulip in his hand as he began trailing the flower down the length of her neck, Hermione curled her chin toward the sensation, blushing with newly blooming desires which seemed to emanate from him.

"Hermione!"

Draco tucked the blossom behind her ear before laying down on the grass next to her, an arm propped beneath his head as the other reached toward the hem of her dress once more, tracing feather light circles on her thigh as she stared into his stoney grey eyes, her legs spreading open eagerly, awaiting his orgasmic touch.

"HERMIONE!"

The witch sat bolt upright in bed, staring with wide, unblinking eyes around herself as the room came into view. She was disoriented, annoyed and overwhelmingly aroused as she found herself face to face with the man she'd so readily abandoned in her dream.

The cruel, firm grip of reality finally closed around the woman and she felt a crushing wave of guilt wash over her at the sight of her husband who was staring at her from the foot of the bed with an amused smile on his freckled face, completely unaware of the subconscious adultery she'd just committed.

"Bloody hell, I've been screaming at you for nearly a full minute!" Ronald stated, shaking his head at her incredulously. "You're going to be late, get up."

Granger sat in a discombobulated mess of sexual frustration for another few seconds, rubbing her face with her hands as she tried to subdue the tingling between her legs.

Ron was picking a few of his clothes up from off the floor as his wife gingerly got out of bed, wishing she had another few minutes to satisfy the building ball of pleasure _down there._

She immediately blanched at her own thought - she was _not _about to get herself off on thoughts of Draco Malfoy.

Not consciously at least.

No, what she desperately needed was an ice cold shower.

* * *

Hermione climbed out of the bath fifteen minutes later, freezing and frustrated.

Her racing thoughts had flown through entire text books, musical lyrics and movies scripts but no matter what she trained her focus on, she kept stumbling onto images of Draco in her dream - the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he made _her feel…_

"God," the witch groaned miserably, rubbing her face with a towel.

She tried once more to settle the indecent thoughts swirling around her mind before ripping the towel off her flustered visage, suddenly infuriated as she glared at her reflection.

"Get a grip!" The woman hissed at the brunette in the mirror, angrily grabbing a brush to detangle her wet tresses.

It was utterly ludicrous and pathetic how much she was letting Draco affect her. She wasn't even this horny as a schoolgirl, and yet here she was at the age of twenty-seven having wet dreams about her co-worker!

What made things worse was that after their little soiree yesterday afternoon, she was almost certain Malfoy had at least an inkling of attraction towards her.

She could tell by the way he kept stealing glances at her over the table, the way he would blush uncontrollably when she caught him and the blatantly obvious way he admired her arse as she walked in front of him.

The woman would be lying if she said it was anything short of exhilarating, but one wrong move and Hermione could lose her husband and kids.

Was Draco Malfoy worth losing the entire life she had spent the last decade building?

Absolutely not.

Was she attracted to him?

Annoyingly so, yes. But that didn't mean a damn thing as long as she kept her hands to herself.

She could do this, they could be friends and chat about normal things like Quidditch and the weather and go for lunch together without spending a small fortune on every item on the menu.

Hermione nodded at herself, pleased with the pep talk before giving up on styling her hair for the day - it was going to be an au naturel Friday as she ditched the dryer and makeup.

A small amount of Muggle mousse was all she used, gently working the fruity smelling concoction through her curls before heading out of the bathroom to get dressed in the most boring outfit she owned; an oversized grey tunic that fell, formless and unflattering down to her knees with a pair of plain black leggings.

The woman scarfed down her bowl of cornflakes, prying Hugo and Rose off her lap as she rinsed out the bowl and tossed it onto the dishrack.

She gave her already wailing children a kiss on the head before rummaging through the pantry for a packet of fruit pastilles, splitting the brightly coloured candy in half before presenting the prize to her babies, their sobbing instantly remedied as they grabbed the toffee from her hands.

The witch smiled and turned to grab her jacket which had purposely been draped over the chair - there was no way she was going to take Malfoy's coat again.

"You left this on the nightstand," Ronald interjected, his voice quiet and reserved as he handed over a parcel wrapped in bright green paper, a white tag on the front labelled _Malfoy._

_Shit._

She really needed to stop labelling things so aggressively.

Her plan had been to wake up early and grab the present before anyone saw it, but the nature of her dream and unwanted wake up call had left the woman disoriented and she completely forgot about the gift.

"Oh, thank you," Hermione said, avoiding his questioning gaze as she gently retrieved the package from her husband's hands, waiting for some kind of remark.

"You're buying him presents now?"

Granger sighed.

"Secret Santa presents, so really just a bit of rotten luck on my part," Hermione admitted, hoping that the grimace on her face was believable. She needed Ron to think that she found absolutely no joy in picking gifts out for the Slytherin when in fact, it was the most fun she'd had Christmas shopping this year.

Ronald's freckled face relaxed a bit, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his wife dramatically turned the gift over in her hands as though handling a piece of poop.

"What'd you get him?" the red-head asked, feigning nonchalance as he leaned on the fridge, crossing his arms.

"Er… a teacup and a french press," she recited, pretending like she'd already forgotten what the contents of the box were.

Ron, seemingly satisfied with her response, regained his full height and walked lazily over to the cabinet to grab a mug of his own.

"Where did you buy it from?"

The witch gave up entirely on trying to be punctual today and turned to give Weasley her full attention, knowing that she at least owed him an explanation.

"Just some Muggle cafe down the road from work," she said shrugging, deciding to busy her hands by setting the green package down onto the kitchen table before slipping into her jacket.

"You should have bought one from Zonko's; rip the smug bastard's nose right off," Ron sniggered cruelly, pouring himself a piping cup of tea.

Hermione felt her nostrils flare and literally had to bite her tongue, thanking the stars that her husband's back was turned. It gave her a second to wipe the irritation from her features and plaster a forced smile onto her lips when he turned around.

"Yes well, I don't think an office of fully grown adults would appreciate me bringing a Nose-biting Teacup into work," the woman explained, trying to highlight his utter sense of immaturity.

"No, but it would be funny as hell," he snorted, taking a sip of his drink before leaning in to give his wife a rough kiss on the lips.

"Hilarious," she lied, grabbing Malfoy's present off the table and heading towards the fireplace without a backward glance.

* * *

Staring at the empty boardroom was like a punch to the gut.

Just because Hermione wasn't going to shag the man, didn't mean she wanted him to be absent either!

"Oi, Granger!"

The witch whipped around to spot Charles waving her over frantically, his sea-green eyes wide and urgent as Hermione nearly ran toward him, wondering if there was an emergency of some sort.

"You're late! Everyone's in the main room waiting to exchange their gifts!" He exclaimed, shoving her towards the central office space.

She should have known better than to assume Charles was worried over anything important.

The wizard shoved himself in front of his colleague to open the door, grinning widely as he flourished his hand after her.

"Thank you," she said as the interior of the boardroom came into view, a pair of cool grey eyes catching her attention before anything else.

She felt the anxious bubble in her chest at the thought of his absence burst with a satisfying _pop _as she drank in his appearance; platinum blonde hair tousled just enough to make her heart do somersaults, slight beard perfectly groomed, his broad shoulders draped in a fine marengo suit with a simple black shirt underneath.

How could he look so effortlessly perfect?

She could already feel the heat rising to her face while registering the harsh blush on his own cheeks as he - to her complete surprise and utter bewilderment - eyeballed the woman with a blatant flash of desire from across the room.

What in the blazes could he _possibly _find attractive about her today? She had made every conscious effort to be as unappealing and plain as possible!

"Ah, Granger! Nice of you to join us," McCrae barked happily, clapping her wrinkled hands together. "Looks like you've hopped straight out of the shower."

"It's a good look," Tahiri chimed in, wagging her eyebrows at the witch suggestively.

Hermione's face was seconds away from catching fire as she registered Draco's telltale reaction.

He turned his diamond-like irises away from Zahra, lashes fluttering momentarily as he gulped back his desire - Adam's apple jumping in response - before landing his piercing, heady gaze upon Hermione once more, eyes raking up and down her body one last time.

This man was going to ruin her.

"Alright, who wants to go first?" Tilda shouted enthusiastically, not noticing the way Granger practically dove headfirst into the chair farthest away from the table.

Farthest away from Malfoy.

She was quite literally trembling, completely unaware of what anyone else was doing or saying - all she could think of was _him_ and how it was possible for a man to make her lightheaded with a single look.

The next second a ribbon wrapped card was being tossed at her from across the smooth table top, making the witch jump a foot out of her seat.

She looked around and caught Zahra leaning back into her own chair with a disinterested expression.

"What? Oh - thank you!" Hermione picked the item up, turning it over in her still shaking hands without actually seeing anything.

Her brain was still clouded with the look Draco had thrown at her, and then without warning, memories of her illicit dream came flooding back - fully equipped with every one of Malfoy's delicate touches.

Hermione had to clamp her thighs together just to keep focus.

"Well, open it!" Tahiri urged, staring at the brunette as though she were barmy.

"Oh...um...yes," Granger fumbled with the sleek cardstock, taking way too long to crack open the memento while everyone in the room questioned her sobriety and possibly her sanity.

Everyone except Malfoy.

He knew exactly what was happening and couldn't help but let out a caustic laugh, shaking his head incredulously at the outrageous effect they had on each other.

"You need some help there, Granger?" Charles asked, perhaps taking pity on the poor witch whose entire back was slick with cold sweat as she fiddled with the damn thing Tahiri had passed over.

"No!" Hermione shouted, almost hysterical as she finally tore the ribbon off, throwing it to the floor as she ripped the card open.

A bright red plastic voucher for the nearest cafe slid out and the witch blinked in surprise, the obscene images in her brain finally clearing enough for her to focus.

"You drink more coffee than anyone I've ever seen," Tahiri commented amidst a chorus of bemused chortles from the rest of her colleagues.

Hermione laughed, albeit a tad breathlessly, but genuinely thanked the other witch and tucked the voucher back into the card.

"Right, Granger - you next then," McCrae ordered.

"You know, this really defeats the purpose of a _Secret_ Santa if we're all sat here exchanging gifts in the open," Charles pointed out.

His boss paused, momentarily realizing her error before shrugging her padded shoulders.

"Sod it, Granger you're up!"

The woman in question suddenly felt nauseous, wishing she _had_ slept straight through the morning.

Nervously and oh so carefully, she plucked the meticulously wrapped parcel from her bag before sliding it toward Draco who was scowling silently at the table.

His grey eyes flicked to her like a whip and he almost laughed at what he expected was a cruel joke, but when he saw no one else make a move, the wizard sat up in his seat, wriggling awkwardly.

"Um, I'm not sure if it's exactly what you wanted," Hermione admitted, staring at her hands while the sound of tearing paper filled the room.

She waited for a moment before stealing a glance at him and saw his annoyingly perfect face crack into a huge smile at the sight of the mug stuffed with sweets, seven different flavours of coffee and tea and an intricate looking French press.

Clearly she had gone overboard, but after the eye bulging wad of cash Malfoy had surrendered to settle the bill at lunch yesterday, spending a bit over her budget only seemed fair.

Except she hadn't intended on a show-and-tell in front of their colleagues.

"I thought I said there was a five Galleon limit!" McCrae chided, peering over the desk to take a look at the numerous items crammed into the parcel.

"Yes, well tell _him_ that the next time we go for lunch," Hermione declared, unable to keep from smiling as she soaked in the sheer jubilation radiating from Draco.

He was picking through the coffee pouches like they were bags of gold, gingerly examining them in the light with a goofy grin plastered onto his face before setting them down. He reached for the seemingly simple obsidian mug, his large hand engulfing the handle as he examined the delicate engravings around the lip of the cup.

"I've put a modified stasis charm on it so your tea will never go cold and it's completely spill proof - the sweets are for Scorpius though." Hermione added with a squeak, trying to ignore the current look Malfoy was giving her. It was a cross between a disbelieving smile and…

Well, it looked like he was about to jump over the table and pounce on her.

"And these?" Draco inquired quietly after a moment, tracing his thumb over the letters she had engraved into the glazed ceramic with her wand.

The witch swallowed nervously, desperately wishing Charles, Tilda and Zahra would leave the room or at least stop hanging off of every word that came out of her mouth.

"T-that's...uh,"-Hermione ducked her head, realizing now as she was forced to say it out loud in a room full of people just how immature and schoolgirlish the notion of carving his name into things was-"it says Draco in Greek."

"It's beautiful," he praised, examining the symbols as though they held the secret to eternal youth. "Thank you, Hermione," Malfoy said, his tongue curling around her name in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight.

It was the first time he had _ever_ called her by her first name and the woman felt like her heart was going to explode just by hearing it.

"Right, everyone else can pack their bags and go home, Granger's put the rest of us to shame," Charles chirped, pretending to get up and leave.

Everyone chuckled, including the brunette who felt her face heat up once more as she nervously tucked a curl behind her ear.

"I didn't intend to."

Draco was still staring at her in the strangest way; smiling yet serious all at once, still tracing his fingers over the letters on his mug.

* * *

Malfoy had purchased Charles a Puddlemere United scarf, two sky box tickets to their next match and somehow managed to acquire a backstage invite to meet the players - the latter making the Quidditch fanatic hyperventilate and keel over.

After a quick paramedic intervention, the gift exchange was back in business with only Charles left.

The man all but tossed the expensive tin of sweets and shop voucher at Zahra, a brown paper bag still inflating and deflating over his mouth as he gradually regained his composure.

They were all severely reprimanded by Tilda who threatened to cancel any more gift exchanges if they couldn't follow the rules, followed by a prompt dismissal and a reminder to meet in the lobby at eleven thirty sharp for their staff luncheon.

The crew of witches and wizards got up to file out of the boardroom while Hermione tried to hide the smirk on her face as she exchanged amused glances with Draco, secretly chuckling behind Tilda's back like two teens that had just been scolded for snogging in class.

"And this is for you Granger," McCrae called out, tossing over a bronze placard with her name on it. "Room 402, everything's ready for you to move in."

Hermione's face lit up - she had completely forgotten about her new office! She clutched the name card to her chest and grinned, thanking her somewhat dour boss before slipping out and heading straight for her new quarters.

"Where are you going?" Draco's deep baritone called after her, echoing through the corridor and sending a slight tingle up her spine.

"My brand new office, actually," she announced proudly, brandishing the placard at the man who scowled at it.

"Let's go do some work first, then you can give me the grand tour of Chateau Granger after," he suggested, beckoning for her to follow as he disappeared around the corner, not even giving the witch a chance to protest.

Granger's stomach twisted into all kinds of knots as she thought of sitting in a small space with that man for the rest of the day...

The young woman shook her head vehemently, reminding herself of her husband and kids before marching off after Malfoy.

* * *

The two slipped casually into their recliners, Hermione making a move to actually begin work as Draco had suggested, but found herself staring at him in confusion as he gingerly pinched her sleeve, pulling her arm away from the stack of parchment.

"You didn't need to get me all this," Malfoy stated, his expression warm and undeniably smitten as he studied her face once more as though committing every last freckle to memory.

"Yes I did, especially after that stunt you pulled yesterday," she replied, narrowing her eyes at the man in false anger.

Draco grinned mischievously.

"That was entirely worth it _just_ to see your reaction when they brought out all the food."

"You're incorrigible."

"And yet you buy me such nice things," he rebuked, holding the French Press up to his face.

Hermione laughed and shook her head, blushing once more as she tucked another wayward curl behind her ear.

"You're going to have to tell me what this thing is, exactly," Malfoy admitted, turning the contraption around in his hands.

"It's basically a coffee maker, just a bit more posh," she explained, leaning over to take the machine from him.

The Muggleborn witch began to explain all of the pros and cons of the seemingly ordinary device, how to use it, how to clean it and why drinking a cup with a toffee was the best way to savour the bitterness of each brew.

The Pureblood wizard stared at her as though she were speaking gibberish but seemed enthralled nonetheless as he nodded and listened intently to her impromptu lecture.

They forgot all about work and continued to chat away, completely at ease with one another as they went back and forth between topics of conversation, their chairs slowly moving closer and closer together without either of them realizing.

Draco began pulling out each of the sweets she had placed in the mug, asking her unsurely about the packet of Penguins, and Flake Bar before taking a quick glance at the clock, his face falling.

"What is it?"

"I lost track of time," he muttered, scowling as he got up from his seat. "I have an appointment this afternoon - have to be there by twelve."

Hermione's heart fell.

"Oh...so you're not coming to lunch with us then," she assumed, trying her hardest not to sound too disappointed.

It didn't fool Draco though.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the party," he promised, shrugging into his jacket before scooping up his presents.

His colleague smiled after him weakly, utterly deflated at the thought of spending an entire afternoon without his company.

"Oh and I wanted to say…" Malfoy opened the door and paused for a moment, frowning immensely as though debating internally until he finally spat it out, eyes downward and ears glowing. "I like your hair today."

And with that he vanished behind the door, leaving Hermione Granger in a pool of mush, smiling like an idiot as she ran her hands through her curls.

Her effort to be unappealing having backfired in an unexpectedly wonderful way.

* * *

It was only a few moments after Malfoy had left that Hermione decided to give up on being productive, grabbing her placard instead and heading towards Room 402.

The woman arrived at the office and inserted the name card into its place on the front of the door, smiling at the wooden facade before yanking on the handle to explore the new space.

She stumbled in and before she even had a chance to look around, her eyes caught hold of an enormous white box wrapped with a beautiful lavender ribbon sitting innocently on her desk.

Hermione's heart did a drum roll as she cautiously approached the item as though it would jump up and attack her.

There was a gift tag attached to the top and she reached toward it with trembling fingers, not daring to assume who it was from.

_**So you can stop taking mine.**_

It was definitely his writing - careful, beautiful penmanship that had no doubt been the product of rigorous practice and strict training during his youth.

The witch shook her head at no one.

"Just couldn't let me have the upper hand," she muttered, gingerly touching the silken bindings.

It was almost a shame to disturb its pristine wrapping, but she untied the ribbon and pried the lid off, her jaw hanging open as she silently cursed Draco and his outlandish gift giving.

Inside was the single most luxurious jacket she had ever seen. It was blacker than black and seemed to have a thousand twinkling stars trapped beneath the fabric, each pinpoint of soft luminance shining and fading mesmerizingly even in the dim light of the office. It was trimmed with black faux fur and adorned with what she prayed were fake Pearls in place of buttons. Hermione couldn't help but sigh in wonder as she trailed her fingers along the impossibly smooth cloth - it felt like she was skimming water.

She smiled at the lavish gift, at Draco and at his thoughtfulness and then abruptly realized how inappropriate it all was.

She hastily put the lid back on - there was no way she could accept something like this from him! How in the blazes would she tell Ronald about it? Her husband would sooner give birth to a cow than be okay with Draco buying her a jacket that probably cost more than both their wardrobes put together. Secondly, she didn't want to encourage the Slytherin by happily taking everything he presented her.

She would leave it here and tell Draco on Monday that as heart stoppingly beautiful as the coat was, Hermione simply _couldn't _accept it.

Turning away from the desk, the witch crossed her arms and looked around at her office distractedly, not at all registering the pretty leather couch, or the handsome paintings that adorned the walls. She was practically scowling at the fridge McCrae had requested be put in for her, the brunette's mind on the present from Draco.

She tapped her fingers on her arm, biting her lip as she pondered the situation.

There was no law which prohibited her from simply _looking _at the jacket…

Glancing furtively around the room as though expecting Ron to jump out from behind one of the chairs, Hermione hesitantly pulled the coat out of the package and held it up to her chest, marvelling at the exquisite garment which fit snugly at the waist before expanding outward in a waterfall of cashmere. It fell all the way to her knees and had a weight to it that screamed class, elegance and frivolous spending.

Her heart was alight with giddy exuberance, something which only came alongside the excitement of a new relationship.

She gave a little twirl, adoring the way the hem seemed to float about, distinctly reminding her of a dress straight out the pages of a fairytale.

The witch wanted to slip into it, but darent try it on, afraid of what she might feel if she fell further into Malfoy's world of extravagance.

For the first time today, Granger was thankful for Draco's absence, not knowing what she would have done if he _had_ been here while she opened the parcel.

Perhaps she would have given him a kiss.

Not on the lips! Just a seemingly platonic peck on the cheek to thank him for everything he had done for her. She did it to Harry all the time and Ron had no issue with it, she told herself while desperately trying to silence the voice which sneered, telling her that there was a monumental difference between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in the eyes of her husband.

Hermione sighed hopelessly and caressed the jacket, bringing it up to her nose when she realized he had sprayed it with his cologne - Spicebomb.

She smirked into the silky smooth fabric, hating that he was fully aware of the effect he had on her as she inhaled deeply, her entire soul smiling at the thought of Draco Malfoy.

The woman reluctantly put the garment down, taking a quick peek at the tag.

_**Monsieur Pettyfer's Fine Robes and Clothing**_

_**Rue Blanche, Diagon Alley, London**_

_**Custom Ladies Coat - Malfoy, D.**_

Hermione gulped, instantly recognizing the shop as one of the high end establishments on the most expensive street in Diagon Alley - Rue Blanche was one she didn't even bother heading towards as it made everything about the woman feel small, dirty and inadequate.

A small ding alerted her to the clock just above her door.

11:25

Clearly McCrae was insistent on their team being on time.

She frowned, hating that she had to leave, and gave the jacket one last hug, relishing his scent before leaving the office while thinking of ways she could kiss Malfoy without breaking the sanctity of her marriage vows.


End file.
